“What If I Really Were?” was reportedly written over a period of fifteen days and rushed into production in August 1979 by several members of the Shanghai People’s Art Theater, inspired partly by the arrest of a privilege-seeking youth five months earlier on charges of impersonating a high-ranking cadre. Yet the play is certainly the product of a more substantial social and artistic ferment than either its topical nature or the impressive swiftness of its creation might imply. Because of its form and substance, “What If I Really Were?” for several months became a central document in Party-led discussions of what was to be considered responsible and permissible in literature.

In the context of the esthetic doctrines prevailing through most of the 1970s, one of the boldest strokes of “What If I Really Were?” is to place its negative and morally flawed characters at the center of attention, departing from the accepted practice of emphasizing positive characters. While this is fundamental to the art of satire, the authors felt compelled to defend their decision by prefacing the script with a quotation from Gogol to the effect that the portrayal of the immoral can suggest moral purpose just as effectively as direct portrayal of positive moral action. To be sure, “What If I Really Were?” is not the first play since the founding of the People’s Republic to trace its lineage to Gogol, but it comes closer than any previously published play to Gogol’s style of satire (especially that of The Inspector General)in its closely observed and bitingly satirical attention to its negative characters.

Lao She’s “Looking West to Chang’an” (“Xi wang Chang’an”), first published in 1956 and republished in July 1979 just prior to the appearance of “What If I Really Were?,” is also based on a real incident in which a man posed as a war hero wounded in Korea. But all we finally learn of this cowardly swindler is that he wanted to use his faked record to eat well and to live in comfort. He is mistakenly helped by others out of their well-meaning consideration for him and their desire to see him as the ideal hero.

Following the Cultural Revolution, as satire grew more pungent, a oneact play appeared in Shanghai entitled “The Artillery Commander’s Son” (“Paobing siling de erzi”), in which a hypocritical, social-climbing timeserver in the Party under the Gang of Four attempts to steer his daughter into an alliance with the son of a high-level cadre at the expense of her desire to marry a common worker. This rotten apple is tricked by a conspiracy of young people into agreeing to his daughter’ss choice. Such an assertion of the egalitarian spirit over a venal Party cadre set the stage for “What If I Really Were?,” which expanded considerably on the satire of Party cadres and the issues at stake. It presents a basketload of cadres as so much overripe fruit nourished on the branches of bureaucratic hierarchy and the soil of a privilege-oriented mentality, juggled and manipulated in scene after scene by a saddened and cynical young picaro, until the circus of corruption and hypocrisy is finally quashed with the arrival, deus ex machina, of a leading cadre with social authority and personal integrity.

Official critics, who sometimes lauded the principle of hard-hitting social criticism, found its execution in “What If I Really Were?” to be disturbingly unbalanced.¹ The central action of the play was considered typical enough to be significant, but the context created for the action was too exaggerated to count as an accurate portrayal of Chinese society. Similarly, the play was too cavalier in its treatment of negatively portrayed cadres, reducing them to a mere parade of acquisitive clowns rather than distinguishing them as individual characters more fully representing varied aspects of social failure. As for the cadres who were positively portrayed, Zhang Senior was given inadequate attention, and Director Zheng was unduly despairing over the fate of his state farm. Whether true or not, these points disregard the play as literary satire, a form by nature rooted in distortion, exaggeration, and general unfairness, the more impartially unfair the better.

“What If I Really Were?” is not altogether a satirical work, however, and it is not impartial when it makes the young swindler largely a sympathetic figure. In the eyes of Party critics, this character’s concerns are a reflection of petit bourgeois individualism. As one authoritative critic said:

The social problems depicted in the play are linked to the misrule of the Gang of Four, but it is also made clear that two years have passed since the Gang was toppled. This careful identification of time clears the way for the dangerous inference that some problems are attributable either to the present leadership or to socialist society in general. Political critics were always quick to challenge works that did not associate social failures strongly enough with the Gang of Four, and it was probably for this reason that “What If I Really Were?,” despite its great fame in the People’s Republic, was never published there except in restricted-circulation publications for cadres. It was performed in major cities, but not for the public except very briefly in Shanghai and Guangzhou. The present translation is based on the script published in the Hong Kong magazine The Seventies (Qishi niandai), January 1980. This text has been checked against restricted-circulation texts from China and is entirely accurate.

Introduction by Edward M. Gunn.

Translated by Edward M. Gunn.

Characters

ZHAO—managing director of a drama company.

QIAN—director of the political office of an organization department; wife of Secretary Wu.

SUN—chief of a bureau of culture.

LI XIAOZHANG (ZHANG XIAOLI)—an educated youth¹ assigned to a state farm.

ZHOU MINGHUA—worker in a cotton mill; Li Xiaozhang’s girlfriend.

WU—secretary of the Party municipal committee.

ZHENG—director of a state-owned farm.

JUANJUAN—daughter of Bureau Chief Sun.

ZHANG LAO—cadre in charge, Party Central Commission for Inspecting Discipline.

PUBLIC SECURITY OFFICERS A AND B.

SPECTATORS A, B, C, D, E, F.

THEATER ATTENDANTS.

A MIDDLE-AGED MAN ANSWERING THE TELEPHONE.

RESTAURANT WAITERS.

EDUCATED YOUTHS A AND B.

PRESIDING JUDGE.

ASSISTANT JUDICIAL OFFICERS A AND B.

PROSECUTOR.

PRELUDE

Plays have their origins in life. And this play of ours also is taken from actual lives as they really occurred. So before the curtain goes up, why don’t we start this play with an actual scene from life?

Fine. Then, before the performance begins, let’s have a look at this beloved and faithful audience of ours pouring into the theater from all directions. Naturally, they know nothing about the play which they have come to see, save for its title. And so some of them have taken their seats to leaf through the program notes they just bought, hoping to glean in advance some understanding of the plot. Others stand in the lounge amid the noise of the crowd, talking with their companions, guessing what happens in the play. Still others are smoking cigarettes or eating ice cream contentedly, with no desire to tax their brains in such pursuits.

Shortly, under the urging of bells, the audience files in toward their seats. They wait, some attentively and some casually, for the curtain to part.

At last the time has arrived for the play to begin! The houselights dim, the music begins, and the eyes of the audience widen, concentrating on the stage. Suddenly the music stops, the houselights go back up, and from behind the curtain is heard the voice of the managing director of the company, Zhao, shouting, “Hold it! Hold it! Close the curtain!” Thereupon the stage curtain, which has barely parted, is again closed. After a moment, Managing Director Zhao walks from behind one edge of the curtain onto the stage.

Her speech concluded, Managing Director Zhao walks back behind the curtain. And what of the audience reaction to this? Are they filled with helpless resentment? Do they give voice to their dissatisfaction, heatedly protesting, loudly hissing or swearing? The only answer is that the audience is bound to react with many varying, individual attitudes to this pre-show inconvenience. And this is as it should be.

The initial wave of commotion having subsided, Managing Director Zhao again pokes her head out from the edge of the curtain and scans the front entrance of the house. Suddenly her face expresses surprised delight. The audience, of course, is certain to follow her eyes to the entrance.

At this point, under the gaze of the audience, there arrives at the front entrance a woman of uncommon appearance. She is Director Qian of the Political Office of the Party Municipal Committee Organization Department, and wife of the Secretary of the Party Municipal Committee. She is accompanied by the dignified Bureau Chief Sun, head of the Cultural Bureau. While the audience is certain to regard these two as the distinguished patrons for whom they have had the honor of waiting, this is in fact not so. Rather, notice that they are also ushering in a youth—he is the distinguished visitor. His name is Li Xiaozhang, but he presently calls himself Zhang Xiaoli.

Director Qian and Bureau Chief Sun are speaking to him with great deference in hushed voices: “After you, please. Please!” Escorting him forward, they walk straight to three empty seats in the front row near the center aisle. Once they are seated, Managing Director Zhao’s voice can be heard from behind the curtain; “Let’s go! Let’s go! Curtain, ready. Curtain, now!” And the music resumes.

Abruptly, however, two public security officers enter, carrying guns; they move rapidly to where Li Xiaozhang is sitting.

OFFICER (to Li Xiaozhang): Li Xiaozhang, you are under arrest!

QIAN (startled): What? What’s going on? His name is not Li Xiaozhang. What makes you think you can go around arresting anyone you feel like?

OFFICER (producing the arrest warrant): Here’s the warrant!

(The other officer handcuffs Li Xiaozhang.)

SUN: Get your hands off him! You’ve got the wrong man. Do you know who this is?!

OFFICER: You tell me.

SUN: This is Zhang Xiaoli!

QIAN: He is the son of a leader in Party Central.

OFFICER: No, he is an impostor!

QIAN AND SUN: What?!

(Managing Director Zhao has just dashed from the edge of the curtain to the front of the stage.)

ZHAO: Hey! What’s going on here? How can we begin the show with this going on? (to the public security officer) Comrade, please be so kind as to explain just what’s going on here!

OFFICER: All right!

(The two public security officers, Li Xiaozhang, Director Qian, and Bureau Chief Sun mount the stage.)

OFFICER: Comrade spectators, I’m very sorry to have interrupted you! This is an impostor by the name of Li Xiaozhang, calling himself Zhang Xiaoli. He is an educated youth assigned to a state farm. He has impersonated the son of a leader in Party Central and has engaged in fraudulent activities in this city. Because there is a danger that he will flee, we have had to take urgent measures to secure his arrest.

ZHAO: What? (to Li Xiaozhang) Is this true?

LI: Aren’t you acting out a performance? I also acted out a performance for all of you. Now that my performance is over, you can go on with yours.

ZHAO: What?

QIAN: You?

SUN: Oh!

(The spotlight focuses in succession on the faces of Li Xiaozhang, Managing Director Zhao, Director Qian, and Bureau Chief Sun. Blackout.)

SCENE 1

Early evening during the first half of 1979.

The front entrance to a theater. (If this play has the good fortune to be performed in a theater, then the stage setting should resemble as closely as possible the front entrance of the theater where it is performed.)

Along one wall of the theater are large posters reading: “The XX Spoken Drama Company presents the Russian satirical comedy The Inspector General.” Also on the posters is a portrait of the play’s central character, Khlestakov.

The theater is obviously full, and many people are clustered at the front doors waiting to buy unwanted tickets. With currency clutched in their hands, they hastily ask everyone they see: “Are you returning your ticket?” If someone has a ticket, the crowd surges forward instantly, every man for himself. The lucky purchaser, wildly delighted, utters a string of thank-yous and gleefully enters the theater. The unsuccessful—disappointed but not resentful—resume their search. This scene must be played in a thoroughly lifelike, natural fashion to make the spectators feel that it is realistic, just as though the performers were the spectators themselves or the members of the audience had themselves mounted the stage to perform.

Li Xiaozhang enters wearing an old army uniform, with an army satchel slung over his shoulder. He lets his cigarette dangle from his lips and blows smoke rings, impassively watching the crowd and the doors of the theater. Then he tosses away his cigarette and reaches into his pocket. Spectator A quickly comes forward to intercept him.

SPECTATOR A (eagerly): Got a ticket?

LI: Ticket?

SPECTATOR A: Uh-huh.

LI (in a slow drawl): Ye-e-es!

SPECTATOR A (overjoyed): Great!

(When the crowd around them hears that Li Xiaozhang has a ticket, they instantly surround him, crying out: “Let me have it!” “Give it to me!” “I’ll take it! I’ll take it!” Li Xiaozhang is pressed helplessly back against the wall.)

SPECTATOR A: I should get it! I was here first!

SPECTATOR B: I’ll trade you ten movie tickets for one of yours!

SPECTATOR C: Give it here! Over here! Three dollars a ticket, how about it?

LI: Don’t fight now! Don’t fight! Everybody will get one! Everyone form a line! Form a line!

(There is much commotion as everyone forms into a line in front of Li Xiaozhang.)

LI: Don’t worry, don’t worry! I’ve got plenty of tickets, enough for everyone. From all over the country, from this area, too. I’ve got them all!

SPECTATOR A: What?

SPECTATOR B: All over the country and around here too?

SPECTATOR C: Just what kind of tickets are these?

LI (takes several ration tickets from his wallet): Look, ration tickets!

SPECTATOR A: Huh?

SPECTATOR B: IS this some kind of joke?

LI: What do you mean? Ration tickets are tickets, aren’t they? These are the most important tickets you can have. Without these you’d starve!

SPECTATOR C: Damn!

SPECTATOR D: Jerk—punch him out!

LI (coolly, impassively): You want to try? Eh?

SPECTATOR B: All right. Forget it. Let’s go, now, let’s go.

(They disperse sullenly.)

SPECTATOR A: Comrade, you shouldn’t trick people.

LI: It was just a joke. So what if I trick people? Putting on plays is tricking people too, isn’t it? You people ignore the real drama taking place all around the world and instead have to come here to watch make-believe drama. Don’t you think you’re being tricked here too?

SPECTATOR A: What do you know? Today’s play is world-famous! The Inspector General!

LI: Oh? The Inspector General? Any good?

SPECTATOR A: It’s really good! It’s about this grade 12 Russian civil servant from St. Petersburg who stops off in a town. The mayor of this town thinks he’s the Inspector General, so he really flatters and fawns over him, gives him money and gifts, and then wants to marry his daughter to him. It’s hysterically funny.

LI: Oh? The inspector general is a fake?

SPECTATOR A: A swindler!

(Li Xiaozhang quickly walks over to a poster and examines it with great interest. After a moment he looks at his wristwatch, glances off into the distance, then continues reading the poster. After a moment, Zhou Minghua rushes in carrying a handbag.)

ZHOU: Li Xiaozhang!

LI: Minghua! Look at you, late again!

ZHOU: Dad wouldn’t let me go out.

LI: That old stiff.

ZHOU: How can you—

LI: He is an old stiff! I was just over at your place, and he ignored me completely!

ZHOU: You mustn’t be that way about my dad. (She produces a bottle of maotai liquor from her handbag.) Here! Dad told me to return it to you.

LI (taken aback): Ah! Did he drink it up?

ZHOU: Drink what up? He doesn’t drink.

LI (taking the bottle): Oh.

ZHOU: What are you doing buying fancy maotai liquor like this for my father?

LI: Trying to get in good with my future father-in-law.

ZHOU: But you’re really extravagant buying a fancy brand like this!

LI: It’s fake.

ZHOU: What? Fake liquor?

LI: Could I have bought the real stuff? Oh, the bottle is real enough. Bought it at a secondhand goods stall where they were going for twenty cents apiece. But then I filled it with ordinary $1.20 baigan liquor.

ZHOU: Ah? Weren’t you afraid my father could tell the difference?

LI: People always go for appearances, and your dad is no exception.

ZHOU: What made you want to do that?

LI: To get your dad to like me—what do you think? I did it for us.

ZHOU: If that’s what you really want, then hurry up and get yourself officially transferred back from the farm! Nothing else—no gift or anything is going to make him approve of us being together. You’ve just got to get transferred, and fast!

LI (annoyed): Whew, what a pain!

ZHOU: I’m working on a solution for you. But you’re smart and you’re capable yourself; you have to be thinking of a solution too! All these other people have been transferred back to the city, so why can’t you be? Didn’t a lot of my old classmates just get transferred back a little while ago?

LI: And what do their dads do?

ZHOU: One is Party secretary in a factory, and one is a deputy fleet commander, and then there’s the girl in my class whose father is chief of the Bureau of Culture.

LI: Then of course they could get transferred! But what does my father do? (sarcastically, raising his thumb) A worker, a worker who never thinks of himself, a member of what they call the “vanguard” social class! Not worth a fart! The year before last when it was my turn to be transferred, wasn’t my name cut from the list and passed over?

ZHOU: Yeah, if you had a good father, things would be fine.

LI: Before my next reincarnation I’m going to check first to see if my father is a high-level cadre; and if he isn’t, I’d sooner die right in the womb and never come out!

ZHOU: Don’t be silly. You’d better think of a way to get transferred soon. You can’t put this off any longer—you know?

LI: All right, all right. There’s no use getting upset! I’d better get us a couple of tickets so we can get in to see the show.

ZHOU: See a show?

LI: I hear this play is pretty good.

ZHOU: No, I can’t. I sneaked out to see you.

LI: You won’t come with me?

ZHOU: I’m afraid Dad will find out.

LI: Suit yourself.

(Zhou Minghua hesitates but finally decides to leave nevertheless and exits.) (Li Xiaozhang starts to follow Zhou Minghua but is blocked by the arrival of a limousine. The glare of the limousine headlights is followed by the sound of braking. Simultaneously Managing Director Zhao runs out the front door of the theater, dispersing the surrounding crowd of onlookers. A moment later Bureau Chief Sun and his daughter Juanjuan enter. Zhao hurries forward to greet them. Li Xiaozhang stands to one side, eyeing them coldly.)

ZHAO (with enthusiasm): Ah! Bureau Chief Sun, you’re here! (shaking his hand) How are you!

SUN: How are you!

ZHAO: How has your health been recently?

SUN: Not bad.

ZHAO: But who do we have here! Is this Juanjuan?

SUN: This is Auntie Zhao.

JUANJUAN: Auntie Zhao!

ZHAO: My, my, what a pretty one! Transferred back from the farm?

JUANJUAN: Some time ago.

ZHAO: And your young man?

JUANJUAN: Still up in the northeast.

ZHAO: Oh, a young couple separated like that! That won’t do, will it?

JUANJUAN: Dad is working on it.

SUN: Who said that? Nonsense!

JUANJUAN (whispering to Zhao): I’m not talking nonsense. He is!

ZHAO (with a laugh): Please, come on in! (She takes out two tickets.) Here are the tickets we’ve held for you.

(Another limousine arrives with the glare of headlights and the sound of braking. Zhao and Sun stop and look toward the car.)

SUN: Who’s that in that car?

ZHAO: It looks like Director Qian from the Organization Department.

SUN: Director Qian?

ZHAO: The wife of Secretary Wu in the Party Municipal Committee.

SUN: Oh, sure, sure!

ZHAO (showing off): We were buddies back during the war. We go way back together.

(Director Qian enters.)

ZHAO (instantly going up to greet her): Sister Qian, to what do we owe the honor of your presence?

QIAN: My dear Zhao, have you so completely forgotten about me that you don’t invite me to your shows anymore?

ZHAO: I wanted to invite you several times, but I was afraid you’d be busy. You want to watch this evening?

QIAN: Are there any tickets?

ZHAO: You think there wouldn’t be a ticket for you? Just tell me how many you want and they’re yours.

QIAN: Just one is all I want.

ZHAO: Isn’t Secretary Wu coming?

QIAN: How can he take time to watch plays? He’s busy all day and into the night. I tell him to relax and take a break, but he’s so obstinate he won’t do it—talks about regaining all the time that was squandered by the Gang of Four.

ZHAO: Secretary Wu really works hard. That’s quite a heavy burden he has, eh!

SUN: Director Qian, let’s go in. They’re starting the show.

QIAN (not recognizing Sun): This gentleman is—?

SUN: I’m in the Bureau of Culture.

ZHAO: This is Bureau Chief Sun. You’ve never met?

QIAN: Oh, yes, of course, your immediate superior. Why, it’s been ten years, and look at how that hair is all white now!

ZHAO: Bureau Chief Sun, why don’t you escort Director Qian and go on in—I still have to wait for Director Ma.

QIAN: Which Director Ma?

ZHAO: The one who heads the Party Municipal Propaganda Department.

QIAN: Oh, old Ma! He’s going overseas tomorrow for a visit, so he won’t be showing up.

ZHAO: Oh? Then let’s go in!

QIAN: Please!
(Qian and Sun exit into the door of the theater. Zhao is stopped by a call from Li Xiaozhang, who has been standing off to the side listening surreptitiously to their conversation.)

LI: Comrade!

ZHAO: What?

LI: Any tickets?

ZHAO: No, none!

LI: What’re those in your hand?

ZHAO: These tickets are reserved for leading cadres!

LI: Didn’t they just say that Director Ma wasn’t going to come?

ZHAO: Even if he doesn’t, I can’t sell the tickets.

LI: But there are plenty of them. Why can’t you sell some?

ZHAO: They are reserved for leading cadres.

LI: That young woman who just went in—is she a leading cadre too?

ZHAO: Her father is. Is your father?

(Zhao exits into the theater.)

LI: Damn. Even to see a show you have to have a good father. (Li Xiaozhang starts to leave but then walks over to the poster and again pauses before it. He dawdles there, unwilling to leave. He thinks for a moment, then walks to the left edge of the proscenium, where, on the proscenium arch, a telephone appears. He picks up the receiver and dials.)

LI: Hello. I want backstage. I’m Director Ma, Party Municipal Propaganda Department ... Right, I want your Managing Director Zhao on the phone. OK. (a pause) Right, right, it’s me ... Is this Managing Director Zhao? I’m going on a visit overseas tomorrow, so I can’t get over to see your show this evening ... Secretary Wu’s wife told you? Good. I was wondering if I could trouble you to do something for me ... The son of an old war buddy of mine is here from Beijing, and he’s really eager to see your show. He just gave me a call and said he couldn’t pick up any tickets at the door. Can you help him out? ... No problem, eh? Good. He only wants one ticket ... His name is Zhang Xiaoli—Zhang as in “stretch”; Xiao as in “small”; li as in “ideals.” ... You’ll wait for him at the door? Fine. He’s in the vicinity of the theater; I’ll tell him to get right over and find you.

(Li Xiaozhang hangs up and stands at the proscenium leaning against the wall, observing the theater entrance. After a pause, Zhao runs onstage carrying theater tickets and stands watching among the crowd. Before long, Spectator E approaches her.)

ZHAO: What’s your name, comrade?

SPECTATOR E: Wu. So what?

ZHAO: Oh, I’m sorry.

(Zhao now approaches Spectator F.)

ZHAO: What’s your name, comrade?

SPECTATOR F:Ji. Got any tickets?

ZHAO: No, no. None. None at all!

(Zhao anxiously looks at her watch. Now Li Xiaozhang walks over to her.)

LI: Comrade, are you Managing Director Zhao?

ZHAO: Yes, yes. And you are—

LI: I’m Zhang Xiaoli.

ZHAO (with a start): Ah! It’s you?

LI: Yes. Did Director Ma call you?

ZHAO: Yes. Yes. Goodness, why didn’t you tell me before when you were just here? I misunderstood, simply misunderstood! You don’t have to bother Director Ma for something as trivial as this. From now on, if you want to see a show you just come straight to me, OK?

LI: Oh, that’s so much bother for you! Too much bother!

ZHAO: No, not at all! It’s the least we can do for someone introduced by Director Ma. Your father and Director Ma were—?

LI: My dad and Director Ma are old war buddies!

ZHAO: Well! Please—right this way! Please!

(Zhao invites Li into the theater. From here on, Li Xiaozhang becomes Zhang Xiaoli.)

SPECTATOR B: Hey, how did that jerk get in?

ZHAO: His father is a leading cadre. Is yours?

SCENE 2

That evening, after the performance.

The VIP lounge in the theater. To the left and right are doors, one leading to the house, one leading backstage. Cushioned armchairs and sofas are arranged along the walls. Photographs of the production of The Inspector General hang on one wall; a poster advertising The Inspector General is stuck on another wall.

As the curtain rises, the sounds of enthusiastic applause from the audience and the commotion of their leaving are heard offstage. After a moment, Zhao enters the VIP lounge from the door to the house, leading Zhang Xiaoli (Li Xiaozhang)by the hand.

ZHAO (eagerly): Come, come. Let’s go in and relax. Have a seat. Wherever you like. The facilities in our theater are pretty backward compared to Beijing, eh?

(A theater attendant enters carrying two cups of tea; gives one to Zhao and one to Zhang Xiaoli, then exits.)

ZHAO: Well, how did you like the play? Give us your opinion.

ZHANG (sincerely): Good. Very good. I’ve really never seen a play as good as that before.

ZHAO: Your real opinion now, come on!

ZHANG: Really. It was really good. Well, I’d better be on my way.

ZHAO: Relax a minute! What’s your rush?

ZHANG: I ought to get back.

ZHAO: Don’t leave, don’t leave! I was just telling Director Qian and Chief Sun that they have to come and meet you.

ZHANG (with a start): They’re coming to meet me?

ZHAO: Yes, they’re backstage right now meeting the actors, but they’ll be here shortly.

ZHANG: No, no. Leading cadres are extremely busy, and I wouldn’t want to take up their time!

(Zhang Xiaoli stands and starts to leave. Zhao quickly and solicitously pulls him back. Theater attendant enters bringing hors d’oeuvres and then exits.)

ZHAO: Wait a little. Come on, have a little something to eat. (passing the tray of food to Zhang) Have some, have some. How can you refuse? Go ahead! (Zhang reluctantly sits and eats, still a bit uneasy.)

ZHAO: Is the weather still holding up well in Beijing?

ZHANG: Fine. It’s snowing.

ZHAO: Snowing in summer?

ZHANG: No, it snows in winter. Everywhere in the country it’s the same—it snows in winter.

ZHAO: Right, yes. Did you come from Beijing on business this time?

ZHANG: No. I can’t stand business trips; they bother me no end.

ZHAO: You’ve come to see a friend?

ZHANG: Yes, to see a friend.

ZHAO: Did you have any other purpose in mind?

ZHANG (alarmed): No, no other purpose. When I came to look for you this evening I just wanted to see a play, that’s all.

ZHAO: No, I mean besides seeing your friend, do you have anything else to take care of?

ZHANG: No. Just to relax and take in some shows.

ZHAO: Shows? Well, I have plenty of tickets. Oh, yes. (takes out some tickets) Here are tickets to some restricted-audience films²—American, Japanese, French. They’re all showing next week. Here, take them all.

ZHANG (delighted): Great! How much do I owe you?

ZHAO: Here you’ve come all the way from Beijing. How could I take your money?

ZHANG: How can I let you do this?

ZHAO: Oh, come on, can’t I afford to invite you to some shows?

ZHANG (accepting the tickets): It’s awfully embarrassing to impose on you this way. (A sudden thought occurs.) Oh, right, (drawing out the bottle of maotai liquor from his shoulder bag) I don’t have a thing with me—all I can offer Auntie Zhao is this—

ZHAO: Maotai?

ZHANG: It’s just a token.

ZHAO: I’m not much of a drinker.

ZHANG: Then give it to someone else. Here, take it. From now on if I want to see a show, I’ll have to come bother you!

ZHAO: (accepting the liquor): Now I’m the one who’s embarrassed. Did you buy this at your hotel?

ZHANG: No, you can’t get it at the hotel. This is a special grade, for export only.

ZHAO: Oh? So it must be in a class above the standard maotai?

ZHANG: Well, at least it doesn’t taste quite the same.

ZHAO: Does your father always drink this high-class maotai?

ZHANG: All the time—at least thirty bottles a month!

ZHAO: My! Your father, is he—

ZHANG: You want to know who my father is?

ZHAO: Is it a classified secret?

ZHANG: No, it doesn’t have to be secret from you.

ZHAO: Then who is he?

ZHANG: Guess. My family name is Zhang.

ZHAO: Is your father Zhang Jingfu?

(Zhang smiles mysteriously and shakes his head.)

ZHAO: Zhang Qiling?

(Zhang shakes his head.)

ZHAO: Then—is it Comrade Zhang Tingfa?

(Zhang shakes his head.)

ZHAO: Oh, Zhang Wentian! Oh, no. No. That’s not right, he’s dead. Zhang—right, Vice-Chairman of the General Staff Zhang—Zhang Caiqian!

(Zhang shakes his head.)

ZHAO: Then who?

ZHANG: Guess. In any case you know it can’t be Zhang Chunqiao!³

ZHAO: Of course, of course. Now which high-ranking cadre is it?

ZHANG: No, he’s an ordinary cadre.

ZHAO: No, it can’t be. It can’t be. He’s a high-ranking cadre for sure! (in a burst of enthusiasm) Oh, it’s got to be—

ZHANG: Who?

ZHAO: He’s—(leans to whisper in Zhang’s ear) Right?

ZHANG: What do you think?

ZHAO: It must be; it’s got to be!

ZHANG (laughing): Just as you say!

ZHAO (gleefully): Ah! Is it really him? Oh, dear, what a good father you have! How lucky you are!

ZHANG: It’s true. And it’s sad everyone can’t have such a good father.

ZHAO: For that matter, your father is more than Director Ma’s former superior—he also knows our Secretary Wu pretty well!

ZHANG: Secretary Wu?

ZHAO: You don’t know who I mean? Secretary Wu of the Party Municipal Committee.

ZHANG: Oh, Secretary Wu of the Party Municipal Committee! I’ve heard my father talk about him.

ZHAO: I’ve heard Sister Qian, Secretary Wu’s wife, say that in the summer of 1953 Secretary Wu was in Beijing for a conference and went to see your father at your home. You were still a baby then, weren’t you? And Secretary Wu gave your dad a rare cactus plant. Your dad saw how much Secretary Wu smoked, so he gave him two cartons of imported State Express cigarettes. Sister Qian says it’s been twenty years since your dad and Secretary Wu have seen each other. Right, I’ll go tell Sister Qian right away. When she knows you’ve come she’ll be thrilled! Wait just a minute.

(Zhao exits through the door to backstage. Zhang Xiaoli shakes his head at the departing Zhao. Then he takes one cigarette out of a pack on the table and puts it in the pocket of his jacket, intending to save it for later. He gently opens the door to the house and is just starting to go out when, after a single look, he hastily retreats back inside. Director Qian and Bureau Chief Sun enter. Zhang goes up to greet them with great poise and confidence.)

ZHANG: Auntie Qian!

QIAN (nonplussed): Who—?

ZHANG: I’m the one introduced by Director Ma to come see the show.

QIAN: Oh yes, I heard, I heard. Where’s Managing Director Zhao?

ZHANG: Auntie Zhao said she was going to look for you.

QIAN: Have a seat, have a seat!

ZHANG: How is Uncle Wu?

QIAN: Not bad.

ZHANG: Does he still smoke like a chimney?

QIAN (surprised): How’d you know that, you clever little thing?

ZHANG: I heard my dad say so. My dad has quit smoking. He said to tell Uncle Wu to cut down a little.

QIAN (stumped): Your dad? Oh, uh, how is he?

ZHANG: Fine. It’s just that his work keeps him too busy, and he doesn’t have any time to raise flowers. But he’s always enjoyed that rare cactus plant Uncle Wu brought him when he went to the conference in 1953.

QIAN (beside herself with joy): Oh, so you’re—oh, my, why didn’t you say so before! No wonder you even know about Secretary Wu’s smoking!

(Bureau Chief Sun questioningly approaches Director Qian, who whispers in his ear.)

SUN (startled): Oh? (Sun hastily sits down on one side.)

QIAN: This is wonderful. Wonderful! Come, come, come over here! Over here! (pulls Zhang over to sit next to her) Are you the youngest or the oldest?

ZHANG: In 1953 when Secretary Wu came to Beijing I was still a baby.

QIAN: Oh, then you must be the fifth.

ZHANG: That’s right, I’m the fifth.

QIAN: What’s your name, cute little thing?

ZHANG: Zhang Xiaoli. Xiao as in “small”; li as in “ideals.” You can call me what you like—Zhang, or little Zhang, or Xiaoli—whatever.

(Zhao enters quickly from the door to backstage.)

ZHAO: Sister Qian—oh, you already know each other?

QIAN: Of course, why not? Secretary Wu knew his father twenty years ago. And Secretary Wu held him in his arms. You know whose child he is, don’t you?

ZHAO: Yes, I do. I even guessed it!

QIAN: You had to guess? Why, I would have known him at first sight! Look how much like your dad you are!

SUN: Yes, yes. Looks just like him! A chip off the old block!

QIAN: He’ll be a guest of mine and Secretary Wu’s, so from now on, Zhao, you’ll have to invite him to see plenty of shows!

ZHANG: Auntie Qian, you have other things to take care of—I’ll just be on my way.

QIAN: Relax!

ZHANG: I’m taking a flight back to Beijing early tomorrow morning.

QIAN: Stay and enjoy yourself a while longer!

ZHAO: Next week you have to see the restricted films, remember.

ZHANG: I’ll take a flight back when the time comes. Let me visit you next time, Auntie Qian.

QIAN: Stay a few more moments, just a few more moments, (pulls Zhang over to sit next to her) I haven’t had a chance to chat with you yet. What brings you here from Beijing?

ZHAO: He’s come to see a friend.

QIAN: Male friend or female friend?

ZHAO: The same as I—male, that is.

ZHAO: Little Zhang, you mustn’t fool people!

ZHANG:People I have never fooled.

QIAN: Where is your friend?

ZHANG: At the Haidong State Farm.

QIAN: Oh? Sill not transferred out?

ZHANG: His father is an ordinary worker, so he has no way out. I’ve been worried to death about him.

ZHAO: You can use your father’s connections!

ZHANG: But my father doesn’t know the director of the farm.

ZHAO (with sudden recollection): Bureau Chief Sun, aren’t you an old war buddy of Zheng at the Haidong Farm?

SUN: Mm. Yes, that’s right.

ZHAO: Well, little Zhang, why don’t you ask Bureau Chief Sun to look up Director Zheng and ask him to give it some consideration?

SUN (with an embarassed expression): Well, this—

(Zhao signals to Zhang to talk to Qian.)

ZHANG: Auntie Qian, do you think this would be a bother to Uncle Sun?

QIAN: Why don’t you take a run out there, Sun?

SUN (hastily agreeing): Sure, sure. I’ll give it a try. Hm, what’s his name?

ZHANG: His name is Li—Li Xiaozhang—in the 57th Company.

SUN (jotting it down in his notebook): Fine.

ZHANG (delighted but restraining himself): Wonderful. If Uncle Sun can really help him settle this transfer problem, then for the time being I’ll put off my plans to return to Peking tomorrow!

QIAN: Right, and you can stay here for a few days and relax.

ZHANG: Uncle Sun, when do you think I can hear from you on this?

SUN: Hm, why don’t you come over to my house in a week?

ZHANG: Fine! I’ll be over to see you in a week for sure!

QIAN: Right. Where are you staying now, little Zhang?

ZHANG (blurting it out): The Nanhu Guest House.

QIAN: What room number?

ZHANG: 102.

QIAN: Since you’re not going back to Beijing for the time being, why not stay at our place?

ZHANG: No, no, no. The hotel is just fine.

QIAN: You won’t find my home a letdown!

ZHANG: But then I’d have to cancel the room and create a lot of bother and all, so let’s just let it go!

QIAN: What’s so hard about canceling a room? (She picks up the telephone receiver.) I’ll speak with them.

ZHANG (hastily snatching the phone receiver): I’ll take care of it. Have a seat, have a seat.

QIAN: Do you know the number?

ZHANG: Yes! (Zhang dials a number at random. To one side of the stage appears a telephone answered by a middle-aged man.)

ZHANG: Hello. Nanhu Guest House?

MIDDLE-AGED MAN: What? The Nanhu Guest House? No, no, this is a mortuary.

ZHANG (nodding to Qian to indicate his call has gone through): I’m Zhang Xiaoli in Room 102.

MIDDLE-AGED MAN: Wrong number! What is this? Who are you?

ZHANG: Hu Eryu? Listen, Comrade Нu, I won’t be back this evening.

MIDDLE-AGED MAN (to himself): How come I’m Comrade Hu? (into the receiver) Name’s Lei Te!

ZHANG: Letters? None from my father? What about a telegram?

MIDDLE-AGED MAN (with a wry smile): You’re a case!

ZHANG: My case? No, don’t worry about it. I’ll come back for my bags in a few days.

MIDDLE-AGED MAN (losing his patience): You got nothing better to do or what? What do you mean playing practical jokes in the middle of the night! You’re nuts! (He slams down the receiver. Fadeout.)

ZHANG: Thank you. Yes, thank you so much. Sorry to trouble you. (hangs up) Really courteous service!

Zhao: It’s a high-level hotel!

QIAN (standing): Let’s go, little Zhang!

ZHANG: Okay. Uncle Sun, I’ll hear from you in a week.

SUN: Fine, fine.

(Zhang enthusiastically pats Sun on the shoulder until, suddenly recalling that he’s an impostor, he quickly withdraws his hand and smiles with embarrassment.)

SCENE 3

The morning of a day the following week.

The living room of Bureau Chief Sun’s home. There are doors to the left and right—one leading to the bedroom, one to the kitchen. There is a door in the center leading to a corridor and the courtyard. The living room contains a color television set, radio console, sofa, cane chairs, tables, telephone, and so forth.

When the curtain rises, Zhou Minghua is kneeling down scrubbing the floor, her pants rolled up and her feet bare. She has clearly been scrubbing for some time, as she is perspiring heavily. She suddenly feels nauseated and wants to vomit but struggles desperately to control herself. After resting for a while, she continues to scrub the floor. Bureau Chief Sun enters the living room through the door to the corridor.

SUN (dissatisfied): But this floor should be waxed! How can you put water all over it? (Astonished, Zhou Minghua doesn’t know what to do.)

SUN: And I’m having guests over today! Look at this, will you! Look at it! Agh! All right. That’s enough.

(Zhou Minghua picks up her mop and pail and exits through the door right. Juanjuan enters through another door, carrying a book.)

JUANJUAN: Dad, you’re back?

SUN: Did you just get up?

JUANJUAN: No, I woke up at nine o’clock. I was just reading this novel in bed.

SUN: You really have it easy! Juanjuan, did you hire a woman to work here after your mother left?

JUANJUAN: No.

SUN: Well, then who was that washing the floor just now?

JUANJUAN: Oh, she was in my class at school.

SUN: You were classmates?

JUANJUAN: She can do anything. Rough work, delicate work—it’s all the same to her. Look (pointing at her own skirt)—this is a skirt she made for me yesterday. And she says she’s going to knit some wool things for me, too.

SUN: Oh? Why haven’t I seen her over here before?

JUANJUAN: She’s here because she wants you to help her.

SUN (annoyed): I’m already busy enough as it is!

(Zhou Minghua enters, her arms wrapped around a large basket of laundry.)

JUANJUAN: Minghua, come on in. Come in. I’ll introduce you. This is my father.

ZHOU: Uncle Sun, how are you?

JUANJUAN: Her name is Zhou—Zhou Minghua. She was transferred out of a state farm last year and assigned to a cotton mill as a worker.

SUN: Oh, I’m sorry, I was under the impression—(indicating the basket of clothes Zhou is carrying) Set it down, set it down. Let Juanjuan wash them!

JUANJUAN: Hey, how am I going to wash all that? I’ve asked you and asked you to get a washing machine, and to this day you haven’t bought one. Oh well, I’ll just send these out to the laundry!

ZHOU (worried at missing her opportunity to wash the clothes): No, no. I’ll wash them.

JUANJUAN: Minghua, hold on! Dad!

SUN: What is it?

JUANJUAN: Minghua has a boyfriend still on the farm. They’ve known each other for years now, and they want to get married. Only her father won’t agree to it and he won’t give his consent unless her boyfriend is transferred back to the city. Dad, poor Minghua is really desperate. You’ve got to figure something out for her.

SUN: You’re her classmate, so you should go to work on her father’s ideology. Tell her father that such thinking is incorrect. In our country there’s no such thing as high or low status. Any job, whether on a farm or in a factory, serves the people and has a bright future.

JUANJUAN: Spoken like a simpleton. You go say that! Who listens to that babble nowadays?

SUN: So let the marriage be set back a couple of years, that’s all. I imagine her boyfriend will be transferred out sooner or later.

ZHOU: Uncle Sun, we can’t put this off any more—

SUN: You’re still young. Right now you should be putting your energy into your work and your studies.

JUANJUAN: Dad, don’t be that way! Don’t you know Director Zheng at the Haidong Farm? Go give him the word—you can just telephone him!

SUN: How can you tell your father to do such a thing? I’m a state cadre—you want me to do something that violates principle?

ZHOU: That’s all right, Juanjuan, forget it. Let’s not make things awkward for Uncle Sun!

JUANJUAN: He’s putting on an act! All right! (She takes the basket of laundry held by Zhou and with both hands stuffs it into Sun’s arms.) You go wash these clothes! Here someone’s helped us so much these last two days, only to find out it’s for nothing!

SUN: You—you! All right, all right, we’ll talk about it later, not now. Later! (pulling Juanjuan to one side) I’ve got company coming in a little while, and these Beijing people like steamed rolls. So go buy some steamed rolls for me.

JUANJUAN: That’s a long way. I’m not going all the way over there!

SUN: You can take the car!

JUANJUAN: I want to read this book.

ZHOU: Juanjuan, what’s going on?

JUANJUAN: He told me to go buy some steamed rolls.

ZHOU: Uncle Sun, you don’t need to buy them. I can make them.

SUN: Oh? That’s fine, fine. You’d better go get to work in the kitchen. They’ve got to be ready before noon.

ZHOU: Uh-huh.

JUANJUAN: Minghua, you’re amazing!

(Zhou exits through the door right.)

JUANJUAN: That’s really rotten, Dad. Here other people help you, but you won’t do anything for them!

SUN: Juanjuan, when you’re talking in front of other people, from now on pay attention to what sort of impression you’re making.

JUANJUAN: Everything I’ve said is true!

SUN: Now that also depends on what you’re talking about.

JUANJUAN: Telling the truth depends on what you’re talking about? What about telling lies?

SUN: Who tells lies?

JUANJUAN: You do. Day after day I hear you telling lies!

SUN: You! You’re getting more and more outrageous! Wait till your mother gets back. I’ll have her rein you in!

JUANJUAN: I’m not afraid of Mom. It’s you who’s afraid of her!

SUN: Ah, you—you! I’m through with you! That’s it!

(Shaking his head in despair, Sun exits left. Juanjuan reads on the sofa.)

JUANJUAN: Minghua, what are you up to?

(Zhou Minghua’s voice: “Kneading the dough!”)

JUANJUAN: Come out and join me!

(Zhou Minghua enters carrying a bowl of dough.)

JUANJUAN: With my mom away everything falls on you, Minghua!

ZHOU: It’s nothing—so long as you and your father can get my boyfriend transferred back from the farm, I’ll do anything to help your family!

JUANJUAN: Relax. My father is faking this straight-arrow act. Right now he’s busy with my case. When he’s done with that, I’ll talk to him again about yours.

ZHOU: What’s the problem with you? Weren’t you transferred back here a long time ago?

JUANJUAN: It’s my husband. He’s up in the northeast. Mom went up there a few days ago carrying a letter that Dad got someone to write. She looked up the head of my husband’s unit to try to get him transferred back.

ZHOU: Is there any hope it’ll work?

JUANJUAN: Well, in any event, I have Dad to rely on.

ZHOU: I really envy you!

JUANJUAN: Your boyfriend will be transferred too. Minghua, I’ve never seen your boyfriend. Is he good-looking?

ZHOU (embarrassed): Average.

JUANJUAN: Do you really love him?

ZHOU: I loved him so much to begin with—

JUANJUAN: To begin with?

ZHOU: When he first came to the farm, he was terrific—idealistic and clever. He could do any work he put his mind to, and he was a talented actor. But later, when the farm went from bad to worse, people found all kinds of ways, legitimate or not, to get out. Under the policy the year before last, he could have been transferred back to the city, but before we suspected anything he was squeezed out by others. His name was cut from the list, and he got really depressed. Later he started to smoke, and then drink and got more and more—

JUANJUAN: So you don’t love him now?

ZHOU: Oh, yes. He’ll get better.

(Managing Director Zhao enters the living room from the corridor.)

ZHAO: Juanjuan!

JUANJUAN: Auntie Zhao! (Zhou Minghua exits.)

ZHAO: Here, I brought some tickets for you!

JUANJUAN: Oh, wonderful!

ZHAO (taking out a number of tickets): They’re all for restricted films from overseas.

JUANJUAN (accepting the tickets): Do you have any more?

ZHAO: What an appetite! I’ve got a list of over three hundred people, and only ten tickets for each film. So every time I distribute the tickets I have to divide them up carefully or I get into some real squabbles. Now I’ve given you two tickets for each film. How about it—is that still not enough for you?

JUANJUAN: Thank you, Auntie Zhao!

ZHAO: Your father?

JUANJUAN: He’s in there, (calling) Hey, Dad! Auntie Zhao is here!

(Juanjuan exits. Sun enters left.)

SUN (indifferently): So, what’s brought you here today?

ZHAO: Didn’t you say that after a week you’d have something to tell that young Zhang from Beijing?

SUN (displeased): You have your mind on that too?

ZHAO: I thought I’d see what I could do to push it through. Everyone knows what a warm heart I have, (takes out the bottle of maotai liquor from her bag) I’ve pulled some strings to get this for you.

SUN (delighted but instantly assuming a somber visage): What are you up to?

ZHAO: I don’t drink, so there’s no point in having it take up space in my house. I knew you like to drink, so I brought it over.

SUN: I don’t like it when people do this!

ZHAO: Yes, I know, and if it were any other kind of liquor I wouldn’t have brought it. But this isn’t ordinary maotai. It’s a special grade, for export only. It’s probably fortified with medicinal ingredients.

SUN: Oh, a special grade? Not the ordinary maotai?

ZHAO: It sure isn’t! I had to go through a lot of people before I could get it, and it wasn’t easy even then.

SUN: Then—then why don’t you leave it here! But I can’t let you bear the expense!

ZHAO: If you try to pay, I’ll take it back.

SUN (smiling): You? Fine, fine, fine. We’ll settle it later. (Sun puts the bottle of maotai in a cabinet.)

ZHAO: How are you doing on young Zhang’s problem?

SUN: We’ll talk about it when he gets here.

ZHAO (probing): Has Juanjuan’s husband been transferred back from the northeast?

SUN: Don’t listen to Juanjuan’s nonsense. I’m not getting involved in that business!

(pause)

ZHAO: Bureau Chief Sun, about my housing problem—

SUN: Didn’t I tell you that I can’t do anything about it?

ZHAO: You’re a bureau chief!

SUN: You have a fine place to live. Why do you want to be transferred to a larger place? You’re a Party cadre; you ought to keep your life a bit on the plain and rugged side.

ZHAO: But some of the people who joined the revolution when I did already have over 750 square feet for their living quarters.

SUN: Disparities are inevitable.

ZHAO: Bureau Chief Sun—

SUN: You’ll have to go try the Party Municipal Propaganda Department!

ZHAO (producing a formal petition letter): I’ve written out a formal request. I wanted to ask you to forward it on to Director Ma.

SUN: Director Ma is out of the country.

ZHAO: Then give it to his secretary before he returns.

SUN: That’s out of the question. If I forward it for you, I’ll be implicated. I think we’d better wait a while and see.

ZHAO: But isn’t young Zhang’s problem getting taken care of?

SUN: It’s being arranged personally by the wife of the Secretary of the Party Municipal Committee. Now, in your case, if you also get a nod from upstairs, I can work it out for you.

ZHAO: Bureau Chief Sun—

(The telephone rings, and Sun starts to answer it. Juanjuan runs in from the right.)

JUANJUAN: I’ll get it, Dad! (picking up the receiver) Right, yes, good. (excitedly to Sun) Dad, it’s Mom calling long distance from the northeast!

SUN: Stop shouting! You’ll drive me to an early grave with your ranting, (to Zhao) Let’s go. We’ll go sit in there.

ZHAO: Fine. (She rises slowly, then suddenly and deliberately twists her ankle.) Ouch! (Taking advantage of this, she sinks back onto the sofa.) Ouch!

SUN: What’s wrong?

ZHAO: I twisted my foot!

SUN: Great timing!

JUNAJUAN: Is it serious?

ZHAO: I’ve got to rub it some.

(Zhao makes a deliberate show of rubbing her foot. Sun fumes.)

JUANJUAN (continuing her phone conversation): Mom! It’s me, Juanjuan! What? That letter Dad arranged for was very effective? Wonderful! They’ve agreed to transfer him? (excitedly to Sun) Dad, did you hear, did you hear?

ZHAO: Chief Sun, Juanjuan is asking if you heard.

SUN: Hang up, hang up!

JUANJUAN (continuing on the telephone): OK, OK. (hangs up and speaks to Sun) Mom said they’ve agreed up there to let him go. She says for you to arrange the transfer order from this end and send it up there on the double.

SUN: I’m not taking part in this. I’m not taking any part in any of the stuff you two cook up!

JUANJUAN: You won’t do it? Hmph!

(Juanjuan exits right. Sun, in a rage, starts to exit left. Outside a car horn honks.)

SUN (turning toward Zhao, hastily): What else is on your mind?

ZHAO (with a show of pain): Oh, my foot!

(Sun exits through the door to the corridor. After a moment Sun enters together with Zhang Xiaoli, who is carrying a basket of fruit.)

ZHANG: Uncle Sun, Auntie Qian had me bring over this basket of fruit for you.

SUN: Oh! Please thank Director Qian for me when you go back!

ZHANG: It’s just a token, no thanks necessary!

ZHAO: Young Zhang!

ZHANG: Auntie Zhao, you’re here too?

ZHAO: Have a seat.

(Zhang sits on the sofa.)

SUN (passing cigarettes to Zhang): Have a cigarette!

ZHANG: No thanks, (takes out a pack of State Express cigarettes) I smoke these! (Zhang passes them to Sun and Zhao.)

ZHAO: Did you come by car?

ZHANG: Uh-huh, Secretary Wu’s car.

ZHAO: Oh? Secretary Wu’s car.

ZHANG: Uncle Wu went to a conference at Huangshan.⁴ I got to his house late at night and he left early the next morning, so Auntie Qian is letting me use his limousine.

SUN: Then you still haven’t met Secretary Wu?

ZHANG: He still doesn’t know I’m here.

ZHAO: Auntie Qian has really looked after you, eh?

ZHANG: She has no children, and it’s as if she’s adopted me as her own. Uncle Sun, Auntie Qian told me to ask you how my problem was coming along.

SUN (uneasy): It hasn’t been coming along very well!

ZHANG (attentively): What seems to be the matter?

SUN: I was over at Director Zheng’s yesterday. He said the last time they carried out transfers and urban job assignments, they made a mess of it. The Party Municipal Committee criticized them, and they are just now straightening things out. So for the time being they’ve stopped handling such cases.

ZHAO: That’s the official line he’s putting out.

ZHANG: Didn’t you tell him that there were special circumstances surrounding the transfer of Li Xiaozhang and that the wife of the Secretary of the Party Municipal Committee was personally interceding?

SUN: I told him. It was no use. Director Zheng said that it was Secretary Wu’s own order to close the door on this, and if anyone wanted the door opened, no matter whether it was the front door or the back door, they’d have to have an order written by Secretary Wu himself.

ZHANG: We have to have an order from Secretary Wu?

SUN: Zheng’s afraid that if it’s not in writing he’ll have nothing to fall back on, and if there’s an investigation later he’ll get in a lot of trouble.

ZHANG (indignant): You mean when the Municipal Committee Secretary’s own wife speaks it doesn’t amount to anything? What? All right, I’ll go see Auntie Qian!

SUN: Little Zhang, wait!

ZHANG: I’ve already waited a week!

SUN: But without his order, no one can risk the responsibility for this!

ZHAO: I’ve heard Sister Qian say that Secretary Wu can really be a stickler for principle. Are you afraid he won’t write the order?

SUN: Exactly!

ZHANG: What do you say we should do, then, Auntie Zhao?

(pause)

ZHAO (thoughtfully): It looks like you’ll have to bring your father into it!

ZHANG: How?

ZHAO: Tell Secretary Wu that—that Li Xiaozhang has a special relationship with your dad.

ZHANG: What relationship?

ZHAO (suddenly inspired): He rescued your father!

ZHANG: Rescued my father?

ZHAO: Right! (thinking it up as she talks, with mounting excitement) You can say that at the outset of the Cultural Revolution, Li Xiaozhang went to Beijing as a Red Guard. Hm. And it happened that when he saw your father under attack, Li Xiaozhang rescued him and hid him. Hid him for several months even. Later, when your father was exonerated and sent back to work, he never forgot that episode and always felt deeply grateful. So now he has sent you here especially to ask Secretary Wu to resolve the matter of Li Xiaozhang’s transfer. When Secretary Wu hears that your father has entrusted this to you and that Li Xiaozhang once rescued your father, who can tell? He might write the order after all! (with satisfaction) How’s that?

ZHANG (having nodded his head constantly while Zhao was speaking): Uncle Sun, what do you say?

SUN: Hm. There’s no harm in trying. No harm in trying.

ZHANG: Fine. Auntie Zhao, my thanks to you for thinking up such a good scheme. I’ll definitely get Secretary Wu to write that order!

SUN: That’ll make the whole thing easy!

(A restaurant attendant carries in containers loaded with cooked food.)

SUN: Put it there!

(The attendant arranges the dishes and then exits.)

SUN: It’s nothing lavish, little Zhang. Just help yourself here. I’ll go see if the steamed rolls are ready. Just sit and relax. (Sun exits right.)

ZHAO: It’s a shame my place is so small; otherwise I’d definitely invite you over for some home cooking.

ZHANG: How big is your place, Auntie Zhao?

ZHAO: Oh, it’s impossible! It’s tiny—540 square feet for three people.⁵ I’ve sent up a request to exchange the place for a larger one, but I’m afraid the comrade in charge is too busy to pay any attention to it. Say, you could help me forward my request to Director Ma—ah, no, to Secretary Wu, okay? And then when you see him, you can help again by letting him know the trouble I’m having with housing. Just get him to put in a word for me and that will do it.

ZHANG: Sure, no problem! Leave it to me!

ZHAO (giving her request letter to Zhang): I really appreciate this!

ZHANG: And I appreciate what you’ve done!

(Sun enters right.)

SUN: The steamed rolls will be ready any minute now. Just hang on!

ZHAO: Chief Sun, you’ll have to excuse me.

ZHANG: What, are you going?

ZHAO: My foot is better now, so there’s no point in staying, is there?

SUN: Then I won’t keep you!

ZHAO: Goodbye! Goodbye!

(Zhao exits through the corridor.)

SUN: Young Zhang, what request did Managing Director Zhao bring up with you?

ZHANG: Only a minor thing—to help her pass on a request to solve her housing problem.

SUN: Well, now, you’re from cadre stock and you must take care what impression you make. When people don’t go through proper channels and just ask you for whatever they like, you mustn’t give in to them!

ZHANG: Oh, it doesn’t matter. I help whenever I can.

SUN (delighted): Oh? Really?

ZHANG: That’s right, Uncle Sun. If there’s anything I can help you with, just let me know.

SUN: There is—(stops before he can get it out) oh, no, no. How can I trouble you about it? It’s too embarrassing.

ZHANG: Say it. I’m not a stranger. What’s there to be afraid of?

SUN: I—I have a son-in-law stuck in the hills in the northeast. His unit has already agreed to let him come back here, but they still want us to issue a transfer order from our end.

ZHANG: Nothing to it. Nothing to it. You write the request, and then I’ll say a few words on your behalf when I see Secretary Wu. It’s sure to go through!

SUN: Good, good. I’ll write it right away.

(Sun happily exits left. Zhang admires the furnishings in Sun’s home. Zhou Minghua enters carrying the steamed rolls. She puts the steamed rolls on a table and is about to exit when she sees Zhang Xiaoli with his back to her. At this point she stops and observes him, trying to identify him, until she realizes it is Li Xiaozhang.)

ZHOU: Li!

(Zhang gives a start.)

ZHOU: Li!

(Zhang slowly turns his head.)

ZHOU: Li, it’s you!

ZHANG (amazed): Minghua! (instantly rushes to her) What are you doing here?

ZHOU: For your sake!

ZHANG: My sake?

ZHOU: I was in the same class with Sun’s daughter.

ZHANG (understands): Oh. (He sizes her up. Filled with emotion, he takes her hand passionately.) Minghua, you—(Zhang takes out a handkerchief and lovingly pats the perspiration on Zhou’s forehead.)

ZHOU: How come you’re here too?

ZHANG: Don’t ask me now. I’ll tell you later!

(Juanjuan enters left.)

JUANJUAN: Minghua!

(Zhang and Zhou move rapidly apart.)

ZHANG (warmly greeting Juanjuan): You must be Juanjuan, no?

JUANJUAN: Right. How are you? Minghua, do you two know each other?

ZHOU: He’S my boyfriend—

ZHANG (quickly interrupting): Her boyfriend’s friend, Li Xiaozhang’s friend.

JUANJUAN: What? You know Li Xiaozhang too?

ZHOU: He—

ZHANG (quickly interupting): What do you mean “know him”? Li Xiaozhang is an educated youth at the Haidong Farm. We graduated the same year, and we even look a lot alike. I’ve known him for a long time. I’m here now from Beijing to figure out a way to have him transferred from the farm!

JUANJUAN: Oh? That’s wonderful! Minghua, this guy’s father is a high-level cadre. He’s got a lot more pull than my dad.

ZHOU: His father is a high-level cadre?

JUANJUAN: Don’t you know? I just heard Dad say so.

ZHOU: Ah?

ZHANG: You never imagined it, eh?

ZHOU: You—

ZHANG: I’ll look after you and Li Xiaozhang!

JUANJUAN: Oh, that’s wonderful. I’ll go tell Dad there’s a way to settle this!

(Juanjuan runs off left.)

ZHOU (indignantly): Li! How can you trick people like that?

ZHANG: They’re tricking people too, Minghua. Don’t be naive!

ZHOU: This is no good!

ZHANG: Don’t you want me to find a way to be transferred from the farm?

ZHOU: But you can’t do this!

ZHANG: Then what can I do? Didn’t you tell me you wanted to get married as soon as possible? Didn’t you say we can’t put it off any longer?

ZHOU (softening, mumbling): Yes, we can’t put it off any longer—

(Sun and Juanjuan enter left.)

JUANJUAN (handing a request note to Zhang): Dad just wrote it. You really know how to get things done—kill two birds with one stone! No wonder Dad wanted to invite you to lunch!

SUN: Come on, come on! Have a seat!

(Sun, Juanjuan sit down. Zhou starts to exit right.)

ZHANG: Zhou Minghua!

(Zhou stands still.)

JUANJUAN: Right, Zhou Minghua should join us, too!

SUN: Juanjuan—

ZHANG: Uncle Sun, she’s Li Xiaozhang’s friend. She’s my friend, too.

SUN: Oh, then let’s eat together. Everybody eats together!

ZHANG: Move the table over here, Uncle Sun. Juanjuan, you sit here. Uncle Sun, you sit here, (walking up to Zhou and pulling her over) Come on, Minghua, you sit here!

(Zhou sits down at the table, her body rigid and motionless.)

ZHANG (passing a steamed roll to Zhou): Eat while it’s still hot.

(Zhou looks up blankly at Zhang Xiaoli.)

SCENE 4

Morning, one week later.

The home of Secretary Wu.

Just what are the exterior and interior of a Party Municipal Committee secretary’s house like? Unfortunately, the authors of this play and the great majority of any audience seeing this play have never been to one, so there’s no way to know. If the homes of today’s Party Municipal Committee secretaries were not so heavily protected and hidden behind walls and gates and if the Party Municipal Committee secretaries would open their homes to welcome ordinary common people as their guests, then when it came time to describe what the home of a Party Municipal Committee secretary looks like, we wouldn’t be reduced to guesswork as we are now.

(When the curtain rises, Zhang Xiaoli is sitting in the living room

reading a book. Director Qian enters.)

QIAN: Morning, Young Zhang!

ZHANG: Auntie Qian! Is Uncle Wu up yet?

QIAN: Not yet. After a two-week conference at Huangshan he and his throat are both worn out. He just got back last night, so I’m letting him sleep late this morning.

ZHANG: Have you talked to Uncle Wu about Li Xiaozhang?

QIAN: Yes.

ZHANG: How did it go?

QIAN: He said there’s a temporary halt on transferring educated youth and on children of factory workers replacing their retiring parents. The Party Municipal Committee made the decision, so he can’t go against it.

ZHANG: Ah? Didn’t you tell him how Li Xiaozhang protected my father and about his special relationships with my father?

QIAN: I told him. I told him all about how noble he was in saving your father’s life and how he was wounded protecting your father, too. I made it even more vivid and moving than when you told me. (laughs) I was so good I even convinced myself.

ZHANG: So what did Uncle Wu say?

QIAN: He just said your father may have a special relationship with this Li Xiaozhang, but he can’t let his personal feelings ruin Party policy.

ZHANG: It’s not that serious!

QIAN: Yeah, but that’s just the way the old man is. He does everything by the book. It’s always some policy. He’s that way with me, too. When he went to Huangshan this time I asked him to bring me back a monkey, one of those rare golden monkeys they have there. But he adamantly refused to. That’s not all. Party Central is just about to send a big delegation overseas, so I asked him to get me a place on it—better yet, two places. Then we could go overseas together. But he wouldn’t agree to it! I think he’s a bit ultra-leftist in his thinking. I mean his thought isn’t liberated one bit!

ZHANG: If that’s so, Li Xiaozhang’s case is hopeless!

QIAN: Too bad. If you’d come a month or two earlier, before the Party Municipal Committee’s decision came down, it would have been easy to take care of.

ZHANG: How was I to know that? One moment the policy’s tight; the next it’s loosened up! Now they let people out; now they keep everyone in! I’ve already written a letter to Li Xiaozhang, got him travel tickets and ration tickets, and told him things definitely look hopeful. But now I’m told—(suddenly covers his face and weeps)

QIAN: Don’t worry, sweetie! Don’t worry, Auntie will figure something out!

ZHANG: The only trouble is that if my father hears that this hasn’t been taken care of, I’m afraid he’ll have something to say about it!

QIAN: You musn’t say anything to your father for the time being. Right now there’s just a temporary delay in the transfer. When this interval is over I’ll have him transferred out first thing.

(Secretary Wu enters from an inner room.)

WU: What’s going on?

QIAN: Look, you won’t agree to write an order and you’ve got the little guy so upset he’s crying.

ZHANG (wiping his tears with a handkerchief): Uncle Wu!

WU: Can’t see the problem, can you? Something like this is risky business. It could easily mean big trouble for that farm youth Li, for you, and for your father!

QIAN: Come on, Wu, if you act this way about it, aren’t you afraid of what his father might think?

WU: We’re in a bind! If I have to, I’ll call him this evening and explain.

ZHANG (alarmed): You’re going to call my dad?

WU (beginning to pay closer attention to Zhang): How about it? I haven’t seen your father for twenty years. As long as I’m calling him up I can take the opportunity to find out how he’s doing, (observing Zhang’s expression) Is that OK with you?

ZHANG (quickly restoring his composure): Of course it’s OK. That way he won’t blame me or think I can’t get anything done. Let’s just do that, Uncle Wu. I won’t take more of your time now.

(Zhang starts to exit.)

WU: Where are you off to, little one?

ZHANG: These last few days I’ve been to shows every evening. I’m really tired, so I thought I’d sleep for a while.

WU: Sit down and stay for a while. Come on, come on. Do you smoke? (He passes Zhang a cigarette.) Have a smoke!

ZHANG: Thanks, I will.

WU: Have you always lived in Beijing?

ZHANG: Uh-huh.

WU: No wonder your Mandarin is so good. Where’s your father from?

ZHANG: My father?

WU: Uh-huh.

QIAN: You old half-wit. His father is from Sichuan. Everybody knows that.

WU: I was just asking, talking about home life, nothing special.

ZHANG: Auntie Qian is correct. My father is from Sichuan.

WU: Your father joined the revolution back in 1934, didn’t he?

QIAN: How could he have joined in 1934?

WU (interrupting Qian): So you know it all!

ZHANG: You’re wrong there, Uncle Wu. It wasn’t 1934. It was 1924. He joined the Party in June 1925. Went into the Jinggang Mountains in October 1927. Promoted to platoon leader in 1928; regimental commander in 1929; wounded in 1930; then in 1931—

QIAN: My gosh, what’s the old goat asking all these questions for? (hands Wu the book Zhang was just reading) Here’s a book of memoirs his father wrote, with all the details he was just talking about.

ZHANG: Anything else, Uncle Wu?

WU: Nothing, just chatting. I’ll give your father a call and explain this matter to him. Go ahead and take a nap.

ZHANG: OK. (Zhang exits.)

QIAN: Are you really going to call?

WU: Just to get things straight. But look what you did! Without even checking any details on him, you just gave him my car to use. What if something had gone wrong? It would’ve made a pretty bad impression!

QIAN: What’s so special about your car? In Beijing he rides in a big Red Flag limousine. I bet you’re suspicious of him, aren’t you? No wonder you were giving him the third degree!

WU: But you kept interrupting so I couldn’t question him.

QIAN: I tell you he can’t be a fake! If he were fake, would Director Ma have given him an introduction so that he could see a show? And how would he know that you were at his home in 1953 and gave his father a cactus plant?

WU: It never hurts to double-check.

QIAN: There’s nothing wrong! What impostor would ever have the nerve to stay in our home? impossible! I think you should get this matter settled for him.

WU: No. We’ll see about writing this order later, but not now.

QIAN: Enough! You—you’re just looking for an excuse because you basically don’t want to do it for him. Every time I ask you to do something you’re like this. Why didn’t you bring me a golden monkey?

WU: Me, a Party secretary, getting off the plane leading a monkey on a leash? Quite a picture, huh?

QIAN: Then what about my request to join the overseas delegation?

WU: There aren’t any vacancies!

QIAN: Can’t you ask Party Central for a couple of places?

WU: As easy as that?

QIAN: You don’t care about me. Some people asked for a bunch of places and they had no trouble getting them. But you can’t get one or two even?

WU: You’re the director of the Political Office in the Organization Department of a Party Municipal Committee; what do you need to go overseas for?

QIAN: For the Four Modernizations—to observe and study!

WU: Go to a capitalist country to study Party political ideology? That’s ridiculous!

QIAN: You’re the one who’s being ridiculous! People who’ve been cadres only since 1938 have already taken their wives overseas. And you? Have you taken me? Hm? Let me add that for the last ten years I’ve suffered through plenty with you, been accused of all kinds of crimes, and just about paid for it with my life! Now that the Gang of Four has fallen, why can’t I go overseas with you to restore myself and relax a bit?

(Qian sits down to one side in a pique.)

WU (placatingly): All right, all right. Wait until there’s another opportunity and we’ll see.

QIAN: How many years do I have to wait? Until you retire? Until your funeral?

WU: All right. All right. I’ll look into it some more. If we can go, then I’ll be sure to let you go. Will that be okay, dear? Heavens! You—you just—

(WU exits. At the same time Zhang Xiaoli rushes on from the edge of the stage, riding his bicycle to the proscenium, where a telephone appears. He picks up the receiver and dials. Inside Secretary Wu’s house the telephone rings. Director Qian answers it.)

QIAN: Hello. Who’s this?

ZHANG: Is this the residence of Secretary Wu?

QIAN: Yes.

ZHANG: This is the regional garrison command. You have a long distance call from Beijing. Hold on, please, (changes to a Sichuan accent) Who’s this?

QIAN: This is Secretary Wu’s wife. Who’s this?

ZHANG: I’m Zhang Xiaoli’s father.

QIAN: (delighted): Ah! It’s the venerable Zhang!

ZHANG: You’re Qian, aren’t you?

QIAN: Yes, yes. That’s right!

ZHANG: We’ve never met. Should I use “senior” or “junior” to address you? What do you think?

QIAN: Of course you should call me “junior”!

ZHANG: Well then, junior Qian, my boy Xiaoli wrote me that he’s staying with you. I disapprove! You’re busy with your work as it is, and you can’t have people bothering you like this. You shouldn’t let him stay—just send him out the door!

QIAN: Oh, no, no! It’s fine for him to stay here. It was my idea for him to come, so don’t worry about that!

ZHANG: This toddler doesn’t understand anything yet, and he doesn’t know how to behave. When he gets out of hand you’d best show him who’s boss; you have to be a bit strict with him!

QIAN: Not all all. He’s been fine. Secretary Wu and I both like him. Has your work kept you pretty busy recently, Mr. Zhang?

ZHANG: Awfully busy. There’s a large delegation getting set to go overseas, and the preparations are my responsibility.

QIAN (overjoyed): Oh? Are there a lot of people in this delegation?

ZHANG: Of course there are; I said it’s a large delegation!

QIAN: Have they settled on the members?

ZHANG: There are still some that are not certain yet. Are you interested?

QIAN: Naturally I’m interested! Going overseas is good for study! And old Wu is interested, too.

ZHANG: Good, I’ll put down your names.

QIAN: That’s wonderful.

ZHANG: Is Wu there?

QIAN: Yes, yes he is. Hold on a minute, (calls in to Wu) Wu! (exuberantly as Wu enters) Mr. Zhang is on the telephone; he wants to speak to you!

WU (curious): Oh? (He answers the phone.) Is this Zhang?

ZHANG: Right, right. This Wu?

WU: Speaking.

ZHANG: How are you?

WU: Fine. You?

ZHANG: Just now I was talking to Comrade Qian. Party Central has decided to let you two join an overseas delegation.

WU (with a start): Oh? (addressing Qian) You!

QIAN: It’s Party Central’s decision.

ZHANG: How about it?

WU: I’m just afraid I might not be able to get away!

QIAN (snatching the receiver): No, no! He can get away, he can get away!

ZHANG: You can hand over your work at the Municipal Committee to another person.

WU: I’m afraid that might not work out.

QIAN (crowding in): It’ll be fine, fine. It’ll work out just fine!

(Wu and Qian silently argue with hand gestures.)

ZHANG: This is an organizational decision, after all. You’ll just have to bear with the hardship for a while.

QIAN (crowding in at the receiver): Good, good. We’re not afraid of hardship.

ZHANG: Then it’s settled. How’s your health, Wu?

WU: Still holding up. How’s yours?

ZHANG: Just a problem with my leg.

WU: How’d that happen?

ZHANG: It was when I was being “struggled against” in the Cultural Revolution. Somebody pushed me off a platform and I broke it. Fortunately a young man protected me, or this leg of mine would have been done for.

QIAN (crowding in): Was that young man’s name Li Xiaozhang?

ZHANG: Exactly, that’s him. I like him so much, he’s just like a son to me. I hear he’s still on a farm, hasn’t been transferred out yet.

WU: Eh—

(Qian gestures desperately to Wu to answer him.)

WU: Don’t worry. This can be taken care of.

ZHANG: Good, then I can relax! How’s production where you are?

WU: It’s a lot better this year than last! We’re right in the middle of carrying out the Four-Word Plan.⁶

ZHANG: How about the discussion on “practice is the sole criterion for testing truth”?⁷ How is that coming along?

WU: We’re studying up on it now. It’s coming along very well.

ZHANG: That’s good. Well, best of luck to you in your work. If I have time I’ll come visit!

WU: Fine, fine. You’re welcome here. Always welcome!

ZHANG: You can never tell, I might be there real soon!

WU: Splendid! Splendid!

ZHANG: Goodbye!

WU: Goodbye!

(As soon as he hangs up, Zhang mounts his bicycle and pedals off stage. Simultaneously, lights on the telepone at the proscenium fade out.)

QIAN: That’s wonderful. I never imagined old Zhang cared about us so much.

WU: I suppose you’re finally satisfied!

QIAN: Huh! As if you had anything to do with it! I still had to get it from someone else, like Mr. Zhang. And here you were so suspicious that the younger Zhang was a fake!

WU: I was just afraid of being taken for a ride and left with the responsibility!

QIAN: I told you I’m an infallible judge of people! How could he be a fake? If he’s a phony, then I’d say this phony is more genuine than the real thing! Not a chance he’s fake! Now, quick, get Li Xiaozhang transferred out of there! Besides, it’s such a small, insignificant request from a man like Zhang, who marched and fought all over this country for decades. You’re going to honor it!

WU: OK, I’ll write the order.

QIAN: That’s more like it. Write it now!

(Bureau Chief Sun enters.)

SUN: Director Qian!

QIAN: Hello, Sun. Secretary Wu has agreed to settle this. See, he’s writing the order.

SUN: That’s great! (He takes out the bottle of maotai from a bag.) Director Qian, I hear Secretary Wu enjoys maotai. So I have a bottle here for you.

QIAN: He has more than enough. Keep it for yourself!

SUN: But you may not have this kind of maotai. It’s not your ordinary grade of maotai. This is made especially for export. The ingredients aren’t the same at all.

QIAN: Where did you get it?

SUN: From an overseas trading firm.

QIAN: (accepting the maotai): Then we’ll put it here! Have a seat. I’ll go see our little Zhang.

Having put the maotai in a cabinet, Qian exits. Secretary Wu has finished writing the note and stands up.)

SUN: Secretary Wu!

WU: Go take care of this Li Xiaozhang affair, Chief Sun!

SUN (receiving the written orders): Fine, I will.

(Qian enters.)

QIAN: Ha, that little fellow really sleeps soundly. I shouted for ages before I woke him up. When I told him his father called he grinned from ear to ear. He really is a kid!

(Zhang runs on, buttoning up his clothes.)

ZHANG: Uncle Wu, did my dad call?

WU: Uh-huh. The order is written. I gave it to Bureau Chief Sun.

ZHANG: Great!

QIAN: Be sure you get this taken care of correctly for him, Sun.

SUN: Okay, I’ll go out to the farm immediately. Young Zhang, do you want to go out there with me to see Li Xiaozhang?

ZHANG: Huh? No, I’ll go see him tomorrow.

SUN: OK, I’m off!

ZHANG (walking up to Sun): Uncle Sun, this is quite an imposition on you.

SUN: Not at all. (whispering) Have you worked anything out for me?

ZHANG: Give it time. Secretary Wu just got back yesterday.

SUN: OK, I’m on my way! (Sun exits.)

ZHANG: Uncle Wu, may I borrow your car for a while?

WU: You want to go out?

ZHANG: I have some personal matters to take care of.

WU: All right, tell Auntie Qian to notify the driver.

ZHANG: Thank you!

WU: What a little operator!

(Wu exits. Zhang jumps for joy.)

QIAN: Well, my little one—don’t you look happy!

ZHANG: Auntie Qian, now that Li Xiaozhang is taken care of, I ought to return to Beijing.

QIAN: Stay a few more days!

ZHANG: I’ve been away quite a while now.

QIAN: I bet you’re homesick, aren’t you? All right, next time you come, you must stay with us again. Consider this your own home!

ZHANG: No, this is a lot better than my home!

QIAN: When you go back to Beijing, little one, I want you to take your dad a present—something Uncle Wu brought back from Huangshan. (takes out the maotai from the cabinet) It’s a special grade.

(Zhang receives the maotai.)

ZHANG: Thank you. (laughs)

SCENE 5

The afternoon of the same day as in Scene 4.

The office of the director of the Haidong State Farm is in complete disarray. Every utensil used at work or in the office seems to be set out in some improbable location. An aging silk banner hangs near the floor on the battered wall. A broken broom has been tied onto the cord to a light switch. It seems certain that any order emanating from such an office cannot have much effect, and probably no sooner does it get past the door than it dies an early death. Several tufts of grass are sprouting arrogantly at the corners of the room. Through them the audience can imagine the sort of spectacle the farm fields must present.

As the curtain rises, Director Zheng enters carrying a canister of pesticide spray on his back. He then sits despondently on top of a desk and drinks some wine.

Youth A enters running.

YOUTH A: Director Zheng!

ZHENG: What is it?

YOUTH A (taking out a telegram, with a sad face): My grandmother is critically ill! A telegram came from home, asking me to return immediately!

ZHENG: What’s her illness?

YOUTH A: Cancer!

ZHENG: Don’t try to scare people, Ok? If you want time off, then ask for time off. What’s the point of crying that your grandmother has cancer—

YOUTH A: But she really does have cancer!

ZHENG: So? You’re not a doctor. If you go back, will that cure her cancer? If it will, then when I get cancer I won’t go to the hospital. I’ll come and see you every day instead, and all the cancer cells will vanish.

YOUTH A (pleadingly): Director Zheng!

CHENG: All right, all right. Have you spoken with your company commander?

YOUTH A: The company commander’s father is ill. He went home a few days ago.

ZHENG: And the assistant company commander?

YOUTH A: The assistant company commander’s mother is ill. He just left yesterday afternoon.

ZHENG: How come everybody is ill? Oh, yes, they’ve probably all caught a contagious disease. All right, how many days do you want?

YOUTH A: That depends on when my grandmother is cured.

ZHENG: When you have a relative like this who’s ill, they never get cured quickly. It will take at least half a month, maybe even half a year. So how many days do you want?

YOUTH A: A month, to start with.

ZHENG: OK. Leave the telegram here.

YOUTH A: Director Zheng, you’re all right!

(Youth A exits gaily on the run. Youth B enters running.)

YOUTH B: Director Zheng!

ZHENG: Is your father ill?

YOUTH B: No, no.

ZHENG: Then it’s your mother?

YOUTH B: No. My older sister is getting married. Here (taking out a letter), a letter just arrived.

ZHENG: Do you want to ask for time off to go back?

YOUTH B: Un-huh.

ZHENG: If you don’t go back, then your sister will refuse to marry her fiance, is that it?

YOUTH B: No, no, no. I want to attend the wedding!

ZHENG: Have you talked with your company commander?

YOUTH B: The company commander’s brother is getting married, and he’s gone to attend the wedding.

ZHENG: And the assistant company commander?

YOUTH B: His sister got married, and he hasn’t come back yet.

ZHENG: Good. The contagious disease has passed, and everyone’s back to collective weddings. How many days do you want?

YOUTH B: Not many. Just a week.

ZHENG: All right. Leave the letter here.

YOUTH B: Oh, Director Zheng! I’ll bring you some of the wedding sweets when I come back!

(Without looking up, Director Zheng dismisses Youth В with a wave of his hand, and Youth В exits running. With mournful nostalgia Director Zheng hums a tune from the era of the “Resist America, Aid Korea” campaign [1950–52]. The sound of an automobile horn is heard from a distance, and Director Zheng leans out the window to take a look. The sound of brakes is heard, and after a moment, Bureau Chief Sun enters.)

ZHENG: I’ve been expecting you for days now. I just knew you’d be back.

SUN: Good grief, are you drinking?

ZHENG: What about it—would you like a shot or two?

SUN: You’re drinking on the job. Maybe you’re not worried about creating a bad impression, but I am.

ZHENG: There you go again, putting on the straight-arrow act! What do you mean “on the job”? At this point there isn’t any job to do! Take a look out the window at those fields. Who is on the job? Who’s working? Come on, come on. Have a drink!

SUN (taking a swig while he talks): Then you shouldn’t be drinking. You should be going around to each company, working on their ideology, immersing yourself among the masses!

ZHENG: The masses? They’re all gone with the wind, back to the city—to replace their parents at factories, or by transfer orders, or through back door connections. They’ve all been let go.

SUN: What are you complaining about? You can thank your own mismangement for this!

ZHENG: Mismanagement? You try managing this place. I’ll kiss your feet if you’ll take over this post!

SUN: All right, you’ve made your point. (He produces the order written by Secretary Wu and hands it to Zheng.) Here!

ZHENG (takes it, then reacts with a start): So Secretary Wu has actually put an order in writing?

SUN: Before I came here, I also went over to the Labor Bureau and used this to get a transfer order from them. So let’s hurry up and get Li Xiaozhang and his files transferred out of here. Secretary Wu says the sooner, the better.

ZHENG: But it can’t be done. You’ve just missed the boat.

SUN: What do you mean?

ZHENG: The Party Committee here has decided that for the present we’re going to review the whole problem of transfers for educated youth. We have to make every effort to reduce back door connections. The decision was that for the second half of this year, the roster of people getting out through the back door will be strictly limited to twenty.

SUN: Secretary Wu’s intervention in this case does not count as the back door!

ZHENG: My dear old Sun, don’t be embarrassed, (giving Secretary Wu’s note a shake) This is a back door connection through and through, 100 percent!

SUN: You’ve got nerve saying the Party Municipal Secretary uses back door connections.

ZHENG: Why, there are heads of ministries and members of the Central Committee who use the back door! Why should I worry about a municipal secretary?

SUN: You’re drunk! This is not using the back door!

ZHENG: It is using the back door!

SUN: It isn’t!

ZHENG: It is!

SUN: It isn’t!

ZHENG: It is!

SUN: It absolutely is not. We didn’t go to Zhang for favors: he came to us! (realizes his slip) Ah, no, that’s not it. That’s not what I mean. I’m drunk too. All right, all right. What do you think—is there any way to work this out?

ZHENG: Not unless you push someone else off the list.

SUN: What do you mean “push someone else off the list”? This isn’t pushing, this is “applying proper priorities.” Let me see that list!

ZHENG (handing the list to Sun): The names of the twenty people are all at the top. Whom do you want to drop?

SUN (pointing on the roster): What about this one?

ZHENG: Can’t cut him! He’s a nephew of Feng, the Chief of Staff for the regional garrison!

SUN: My god! (pointing on the roster) This one?

ZHENG: Daughter of a nephew of the sister of the Vice-Minister of Health.

SUN: Wow! (pointing at the roster) What about that one?

ZHENG: Grandson of the son-in-law of a cousin of the Vice-Premier.

SUN: They get bigger every time! (pointing on the roster) Is this one also related to a high-level cadre?

ZHENG: No, not a high-ranking one.

SUN: Oh, terrific!

ZHENG: But that’s no good, either. She’s the girlfriend of the son of the Party Secretary at the farm.

SUN: Shoot! Isn’t there one related to some ordinary cadre?

ZHENG (pointing on the roster): This one. His father is the eighth Assistant Bureau Chief of the Housing Bureau.

SUN: An assistant bureau chief, and the eighth, at that? That’s the one, all right. Ask him to be patient till next year, and put Li Xiaozhang in his place. How about it? ZHENG (with a wry smile): Can do! A municipal Party secretary naturally has right-of-way over a mere eighth assistant bureau chief! The higher the rank the more the clout. Right-of-way! Right-of-way! Get the rights, and you’ve got the ways! This is “truth,” according to some, and it has passed “the test of practice!”⁸

SUN: So it’s settled.

ZHENG (opening drawers and taking out files): Li Xiaozhang’s dossier, his ration documents, his change of residence certificate—they’re all here. Take them.

SUN: Oh! So you’ve already arranged all the departure procedures for him?

ZHENG: With all this high rank and strong backing, could I afford not to bend with the breeze?

SUN: So you were putting me on after all?

ZHENG: No. I was waiting for the order from the Municipal Party Secretary.

SUN (picking up the dossier and other materials): You’re going to get in touch with Li Xiaozhang now and let him go as soon as possible, right?

ZHENG: OK. I’ll call him right now. (picks up the telephone receiver) I want the 57th Company, (pause) 57th Company? Is this Company Commander Chen? This is Zheng. Is Li Xiaozhang there in your unit? ... He just came back at noon today? No, don’t criticize him, he’s leaving right away! ... Transferred back to the city, right! What? You don’t approve? Well, good, so we still have a little of the old spirit of rebellion! What—you’re asking if it’s all according to proper procedure? Using the back door? Hold on a minute. (He hands the receiver to Sun.) Here, you answer him, please!

SUN (taking the receiver, slightly tipsy): Hello. You’re asking who I am? I’ll tell you: I’m the Municipal Party Secretary—

ZHENG (surprised): You’re the Municipal Party Secretary?

SUN: —’s deputy!

ZHENG: Oh—that’s really enough to scare the daylights out of them!

SUN: That’s right! You’re asking if I’m acting with proper procedures? I can tell you for a certainty that I’m not—

ZHENG: Huh?

SUN: —in any way violating proper procedures!

ZHENG: Hah!

SUN: All cadres have special privileges and the back door is perfectly legal—

ZHENG: What?

SUN: —only according to the Gang of Four!

ZHENG: OK. Enough. Enough. I’ll take it. (taking the phone receiver out of Sun’s hand) Chen, old man, the Municipal Party Secretary has written an order specifying that he wants Li Xiaozhang transferred immediately—right, right. You want to turn it down? That’s all very well, only I’m afraid we can’t! Go tell Li Xiaozhang to get up to headquarters. Right, and immediately! (He hangs up.) Do you want to wait for him and take him back with you?

SUN: No, if he has packing to do and so on, who knows how long I would have to wait for him? I’ll go now. Actually I seem to be a bit drunk. No, no, I’m not, no, I’m not! See you.

ZHENG: See you. You know the way out.
(Sun exits. After a moment the car is heard starting up. Zheng looks out the window at the departing Sun. He shakes his head and goes back to drinking. Suddenly he reaches for a piece of paper on the desk and hastily jots something down on it. Zhang Xiaoli enters, having reassumed his original identity as Li Xiaozhang. First he cautiously inspects the building, then goes inside. He has completely reverted to his original habits of speech and behavior.)

LI (with more than a hint of mischievous wit): Li Xiaozhang, 57th fighter of the 57th Company firmly struggling for the glory of the Haidong Farm, reporting as ordered!

ZHENG: So you’re Li Xiaozhang?

LI: The real thing in person, I can guarantee you. Height, five feet, nine inches. Weight, 146 pounds. Age, 26. And in just 66 days—

ZHENG: What?

LI: It will be the eighth anniversary of the start of my struggles at Haidong Farm. Let me join you in a toast now.

ZHENG: Cut the act. No need to pretend you’re such a jovial guy. You’ve been miserable all along.

LI: Good for you, Director Zheng, you’re discerning.

ZHENG: Has your company commander told you? You’ve got a transfer.

LI: I heard something like that.

ZHENG: We’ve carried out all the procedures for you. I’ve given Bureau Chief Sun your file and verification documents to take with him. You’re free to leave our farm.

LI. Thank god.

ZHENG: Should I offer my congratulations to you, or should I express my apologies?

LI (puzzled): Apologies?

ZHENG (his bitterness accentuated by the alcohol): Why not? The farm has been a failure. It’s been a waste of land, and—and yes, it’s been a waste of your youth, for all of you. So—so everyone just wants to get out and forget it. And each time one more person goes, I—I just can’t take it. It’s like I’ve owed you a debt. But then what else—what else is there for me to do? Even municipal Party secretaries—municipal Party secretaries are pulling rank and using their influence. They don’t care about the farm—they don’t care. How are we supposed to devote ourselves to the revolution any more? It’s hopeless no matter what we do. Now it’s not—it’s not just you young people on the farm who want to get out through the back door—even the cadres—the cadres who run these farms, don’t they want to pull strings and get out, too?

Li (not without sympathy): And you?

ZHENG: Mi—miserable, (points to the wine) This here is what I rely on to forget, to escape. I wanted to make something of this farm, but the way things are it’s absolutely impossible. If things go on like this, then I—I don’t want to rot here any more either. The way I’m going, the more I feel I’m—I’m just about fed up.

LI (surprised): So you want to get out too?

ZHENG (with a show of grievance): Put in a memo—for a transfer order. There is a son of a high-level cadre; Zhang Xiaoli is his name. You know him, don’t you? Ask him—to help me—to put in a word for me with the Municipal Party Secretary and have me transferred.

LI (nonplussed): But—but how can I do that?

(Youth A enters.)

ZHENG: Why not? Why can’t you do it? (producing the note written by Secretary Wu) Tell him that if he can write an order to transfer you, why can’t he write an order to transfer me? (picking up the transfer request statement which he has just written) Here’s my request for transfer, based on two reasons—the first, my grandmother has cancer; the second, my sister is getting married! (Zheng hands the transfer request to Li, who stands motionless in stupefaction. Abruptly, Zheng withdraws it, shakes his head in sadness, then waves Li out the door. Li exits. Slowly but vehemently, Zheng tears the transfer request to shreds. Youth A, standing behind Zheng, slowly tears up his own leave request form.)

(Curtain.)

SCENE 6

An afternoon several days later.

The home of Secretary Wu as it was in Scene 4. No one is on stage when the curtain rises. After a moment, Zhang Xiaoli’s voice is heard from offstage: “Let me show you what it’s like over this way.” Zhang enters leading Zhou Minghua.

ZHANG (standing by the doorway with a show of refinement): This way, please.

(Zhou views the room dumbstruck.)

ZHANG (imitating a tour guide): This is the living room of the Municipal Party Secretary. Please note that there are two stories, electric lights and telephone, steel frame windows, built-in cabinets, carpeting, padded sofa and chairs, television, phonograph, and, last but not least, air conditioning, (opening the door to an adjoining room) Here we have a bedroom. Please, step in.

ZHOU (to Zhang, as she stands at the bedroom door): Ah!

ZHANG: How often do you get the chance to go in? Go on in!

ZHOU: No, no.

ZHANG (opening a cabinet): Have some orange juice! (pours a glass and offers it to Zhou) Have some!

ZHOU: This is not your house; how can you just go around taking what you feel like and inviting people in when no one is home?

ZHANG: No problem. I have these special privileges. Have some juice!

ZHOU: No. I’ve never gone around taking what belongs to other people!

ZHANG: I do all the time. And the more I take, the happier they are.

ZHOU: You’ve been living here for over ten days now?

ZHANG: Sure. Aren’t you envious?

ZHOU: No.

ZHANG: Minghua—every time I take advantage of all this stuff, I can’t help picturing you. I see you at Chief Sun’s house, barefoot and sweating, washing clothes and mopping the floors—

ZHOU: Did you ask me to come over here today to let me see how you now live in the lap of luxury?

ZHANG: I wanted to show you how different life can be when you have a good father! But I also wanted to show you something else!

ZHOU: What’s that?

ZHANG: Guess!

ZHOU: How can I guess when you’ve got so many tricks up your sleeve?

ZHANG (producing a notification of job reassignment): Look at this!

ZHOU (looking it over, wildly delighted): What? You got it? You!

ZHANG: I’ve got it! Chief Sun has already made all the arrangements, and now that I have this, I can report tomorrow to the very best factory in the whole city!

ZHOU: I—I’m dreaming, aren’t I?

ZHANG: No! The dream’s over!

ZHOU: It’s fantastic!

ZHANG (mimicking Zhou): “It’s fantastic!” And you’ve been scolding me all along for impersonating a cadre’s son, haven’t you?

ZHOU: It isn’t right.

ZHANG But if I hadn’t (indicates the notification), would I have gotten my hands on this? Besides, I should have been transferred two years ago, but those cadres’ children managed to squeeze me off the list then, and that wasn’t right either, was it?

ZHOU: But that still—

ZHANG: Minghua, I’m not a villain. I haven’t stolen or robbed, I haven’t killed anyone, or set fire to anything. I didn’t conspire with the Gang of Four to seize power. I haven’t tried to start World War III. All I’ve done is pull a pretty harmless joke on some privileged cadres.

ZHOU: But I’ve been worried sick about you every day.

ZHANG: Sure, I’ve been scared stiff myself most of the time. So, all right, starting tomorrow, Zhang Xiaoli, the crafty confidence man, will become honest, law-abiding Li Xiaozhang. I don’t want to take any more risks. This was the first time, and it will be the last.

ZHOU: Do you mean that?

ZHANG: I do. You’re not happy with me the way I am now, are you? (with a seriousness he has not displayed before) That’s because I’ve felt so miserable and empty. I’ve felt desperate. I couldn’t see any future ahead, I couldn’t stand myself, and so I just wanted to put something over on people. But starting tomorrow, you’ll be happy with the way I’ll be, I promise you.

ZHOU: Well, then, I, ah, I have—some good news to tell you too!

ZHANG: How can a luckless waif like you have any good news?

ZHOU: You haven’t noticed at all?

ZHANG: Noticed what?

ZHOU (bashfully): We’re going to have—

ZHANG: Have what?

ZHOU: Oh, you! (Zhou whispers in Zhang’s ear.)

ZHANG (delighted): What? Really? Minghua, oh, you! (He hugs Zhou close to him.) Thank you, oh, thank you! Why didn’t you tell me earlier?

ZHOU: Didn’t I tell you that we couldn’t put off getting married?

ZHANG: Oh!

ZHOU: So tell me when we’re going to.

ZHANG: Hm. I report for work tomorrow, otherwise next month—

ZHOU: Next month? No, no, we can’t put it off any more!

ZHANG: Then what do you say?

ZHOU: We’ll get married tomorrow!

ZHANG (excited): OK, tomorrow! Minghua, from tomorrow on, for sure—for sure I’ll make you happy.

ZHOU (controlling her feelings): I’ve hoped so much you will! You’re not happy with the way you are now, and for that matter, I’m not happy with the way I am, either. I’ve been unhappy with everything you’ve been doing recently, and still I’ve gone along with it and forgiven you. I suppose it’s just my selfishness, thinking only about our getting married and having children. It would be fairer to say I’ve been forgiving myself.

ZHANG: Why are you telling me this?

ZHOU: Maybe it’s to try to rekindle all the feelings and the idealism that we’ve lost. Xiaoli, we ought to remember always what this chance means for us. From now on we should work and live and be as we were meant to be—as we used to want to be. Promise me now, from tomorrow on, you’ll stop smoking!

ZHANG (agreeably): Uh-huh.

ZHOU: And stop drinking!

ZHANG: Uh-huh.

ZHOU: And never fool people again!

ZHANG: For sure.

ZHOU: For us and for our children—

ZHANG: Don’t worry, I’ll be a good father!

ZHOU: I know you will!

ZHANG: (moved, he takes Zhou’s hand): Minghua!

ZHOU: Xiaoli, why don’t we get out of here now!

ZHANG: I can’t. My performance isn’t finished yet. There’s still one more act to go this evening.

ZHOU: What are you up to?

ZHANG: When I told them I was taking a plane to Beijing first thing tomorrow morning, Director Qian insisted on taking me to see one more play this evening. So it’ll be tomorrow before I can say good-bye—forever—to all this and the bogus Zhang Xiaoli.

ZHOU: Then I’ll go back now.

ZHANG: Stay a while longer.

ZHOU: I have to go back and tell my father about your transfer and about tomorrow, too—

ZHANG: Will that old buzzard—I mean, will Father-in-law still object?

ZHOU: He shouldn’t, any more.

ZHANG: Well, if your dad agrees to it, come in the prettiest clothes you have. That will tell me the answer without a word spoken.

ZHOU: Good!

(Zhou exits. Zhang follows her with his eyes, filled with tender concern. Director Qian enters, rushing excitedly.)

QIAN: I have some good news for you!

ZHANG: More good news? What is it now?

QIAN: There’s someone here to see you.

ZHANG: Who?

QIAN: Guess!

ZHANG: Do I know this person?

QIAN: Of course.

ZHANG: Auntie Zhao?

QIAN: Wrong!

ZHANG: Chief Sun?

QIAN: Wrong!

ZHANG: Well there’s no one around here I know well except Li Xiaozhang. Oh, it’s Director Ma?

QIAN: I’ll tell you. Your father is here!

ZHANG (startled): Father? What father?

QIAN: Huh? You’ve forgotten your dad? You’ve been away too long!

ZHANG: No, no. I said, “What, Father?” I was so surprised!

QIAN: Of course you were! He didn’t tell anyone he was coming.

ZHANG: Ah—

(Zhang goes limp and falls on the sofa.)

QIAN: What’s the matter?

ZHANG: I—I’m just overwhelmed with joy, just overcome.

QIAN: You scared me.

ZHANG: Where is he now?

QIAN: He’ll be here right away.

(Zhang Senior enters. He spots Zhang at a glance. Zhang Xiaoli rises from the sofa and stands. Zhang Senior and Zhang stand at opposite ends of the room silently staring at each other. As Zhang Senior inspects him, Zhang waits for the storm to break.)

QIAN (chattering on): Hm? Have a seat, Mr. Zhang. Please, have a seat. Why not have a seat? Young Zhang, why are you looking at your dad as if he were a tiger? (She looks them both over, as they continue to stand silently confronting each other.) Look at you two—one old, one young—how interesting! You see each other, and you just stand there without saying a word. Oh, I understand. It’s probably like what they have in plays where two people have been apart for so long that when they see each other they’re too moved to say anything!

ZHANG SENIOR: No. I do have something to say to him.

QIAN (still chattering and babbling): Oh, it’s easier for you to talk if I’m not here? Sure, sure, I ought to let father and son have a good talk all by themselves. Young Zhang, you take care of your dad. We still have a play to see this evening, remember. Well, I’m off. Bye-bye. Have a nice chat. (Qian exits.)

ZHANG SENIOR: Don’t go on standing. Sit down.

(Zhang sits and so does Zhang Senior. A pause.)

ZHANG SENIOR: Is your name also Zhang?

ZHANG: No, my name is Li.

ZHANG SENIOR: Well, it really looks like you’ve “put Zhang’s hat on Li’s head” [confused one thing for another], as the saying goes. What is your full name?

ZHANG: Li Xiaozhang.

ZHANG SENIOR: So he was you yourself after all. How old are you?

ZHANG: Twenty-six.

ZHANG SENIOR: Haidong Farm?

ZHANG (surprised, nods his head): That’s right.

ZHANG SENIOR: What were you doing pretending to be my son?

ZHANG: I wasn’t being treated fairly. I wanted a transfer.

ZHANG SENIOR: And besides this you haven’t done anything wrong?

ZHANG: I could have, but I didn’t.

ZHANG SENIOR: Did you get your transfer?

ZHANG (hostile): You ruined all that by coming here. Ruined my hopes and my happiness—the happiness of three people!

ZHANG SENIOR: Three people?

ZHANG: My girlfriend and I were planning to be married tomorrow.

ZHANG SENIOR: That still leaves one.

ZHANG: We’re going to have a baby.

ZHANG SENIOR: Having a baby before you’re married?

ZHANG: It was partly because of love and partly because we’ve been miserable.

ZHANG SENIOR: Why didn’t you get married at the time?

ZHANG: Once you’re married, you can’t get transferred. You’re stuck.

(pause)

ZHANG SENIOR: Why did you want to impersonate my son and fool people?

ZHANG (emotionally): You can’t say I’m the only one fooling people, can you? No. Everyone is in this game. Aren’t the people I was fooling all going around fooling others? They not only provided me with situations and opportunities and helped me commit my fraud; some of the people I fooled even taught me how to fool others. I don’t deny that I’ve used your identity and your position to get what I wanted for myself. But you can’t tell me they haven’t also tried to use the identity and position I pretended to have in order to achieve even bigger goals for themselves.

ZHANG SENIOR: “They?” Who are “they?”

ZHANG (taking a sheaf of documents from his pocket): See for yourself. This is Managing Director Zhao’s; she wants a larger house. This is Bureau Chief Sun’s; he wants his son-in-law transferred back from the northeast. This was written by Director Qian herself yesterday for me to give to you personally, asking for your support in pulling strings for her and Secretary Wu to join an overseas delegation. They all wanted favors from me, but whom could I turn to? And they all tried to charm me so that I would help them solve their problems, but who was there to solve mine?

(Zhang Senior leafs through the documents. His brow knit, he paces slowly in thought, almost oblivious of Zhang’s existence.)

ZHANG SENIOR (softly but forcefully): This stinks! Were you planning to help them?

ZHANG: They’re insatiable! I held on to these papers precisely because I wanted proof—proof that they aren’t always as idealistically Communist in their hearts as they are with their mouths!

ZHANG SENIOR: Did you intend to keep these to bring charges against them?

ZHANG: No, to keep them from bringing charges against me!

ZHANG SENIOR: You thought of everything.

ZHANG: With no privilege and no influence, it’s the only way I could take care of myself.

ZHANG SENIOR: But you do understand that you’ve committed the crime of fraud?

ZHANG: Because I’ve impersonated your son?

ZHANG SENIOR: You can’t impersonate anybody’s son.

ZHANG: But why did I impersonate your son? It was because I impersonated your son that they were so responsive, so flattering—offering me all kinds of convenience and allowing me to do certain things I simply had no other way of getting done. If I had impersonated the son of a ordinary worker or peasant, would they have hovered about me like that? Would they have opened their doors and made things so easy for me? Of course they wouldn’t! And why is that? Isn’t it because you, or other people with status like yours, have enough privilege that whatever you say goes, whatever you want done gets done? If you didn’t have that kind of privilege, then neither I nor anyone else would impersonate your son.

ZHANG SENIOR: Are you trying to tell me that this constitutes a legitimate reason for fraud? That since privilege exists, you should exploit it? That since other people commit fraud, you also should commit fraud? That’s the logic of a hustler; it’s not the intellectual integrity that an upright youth ought to have. Yes, the cadre system we have at present does provide a lot of unwarranted privileges, but that doesn’t mean that all cadres exercise, much less abuse, those privileges!

ZHANG: What you’re trying to say is that you are wise old Uncle Zhang, the honest official, eh?

(Zhang laughs sarcastically. Zhang Senior stares at him with such force of dignity that Zhang is reduced to silence.)

ZHANG SENIOR: You may have impersonated my son, but you don’t understand me very well. And it looks as though you also don’t understand our Party or the basic situation among the rank and file of our cadre. I hope you will hand over those documents to me.

ZHANG: Why should I give them to you?

ZHANG SENIOR: Because I have a responsibility to understand these things and do something about them.

ZHANG (handing the documents over to Zhang Senior): All right—are you—are you going to arrest me now?

ZHANG SENIOR: The department concerned will take the appropriate actions.

ZHANG: OK. I’m waiting.

(Bureau Chief Sun enters.)

SUN: I’ve come over to pick you up, young Zhang. Let’s get over to the theater right away.

ZHANG (to Zhang Senior): You see how considerate they are toward me. They’ve even sent a car around especially to take me to the show.

ZHANG SENIOR: Who is he?

ZHANG: Chief Sun of the Bureau of Culture.

SUN: Young Zhang, is he—

ZHANG: My father!

SUN (tongue-tied with awe): Ah! Zhang Senior!

ZHANG (to Zhang Senior): May I go to the show?

SUN: Tonight is the last showing, Mr. Zhang! Let him go!

ZHANG SENIOR (to Zhang): You must take responsibility for your own actions.

(Secretary Wu and Director Qian enter.)

QIAN: Your friend Wu is here, Mr. Zhang!

Zhao: WU: Zhang! How are you?

Zhao: WU: Sit down, sit down. I really had no idea you’d be here so soon.

QIAN: Sun, you’re here to fetch young Zhang for the show, aren’t you?

SUN: Yes, it’s time for us to be going!

QIAN: Right, we’ll be on our way and let them chat. Come on, young Zhang, we’re leaving.

(Qian warmly bundles Zhang offstage as Sun follows.)

WU (to Zhang Senior): Well, to what do we owe the pleasure of—

ZHANG SENIOR: Party Central sent me to investigate the state of discipline in the Party.

WU: Oh?

ZHANG SENIOR (producing a letter): This is a letter of accusation sent by the director of a state farm to the Party Central Commission for Inspecting Discipline. There is an order written by you attached to it.

WU (takes and reads it): You—you didn’t know about this before?

ZHANG SENIOR: What did I know? You’ve been swindled!

WU: How’s that? (suddenly understands) Oh, Zhang Xiaoli—

ZHANG SENIOR: He’s not my son.

WU: But he used your name—

ZHANG SENIOR: Look, even if I had sought you out myself, you know you should have refused this, (takes out the orders and letters written by Qian and the others) Take a look at these, they’re even more outrageous!

WU (taking them in astonishment): Managing Director Zhao, Bureau Chief Sun—and even my wife?

ZHANG SENIOR (upset): It’s a pain in the neck! Our Party wasn’t always like this; it’s a Party with an outstanding revolutionary tradition! Remember back during the war years—how you lost your children? Back then we really devoted ourselves to nothing but the revolution! And when we entered the cities, we wore straw sandals, slept in the streets, shared every hardship and every bit of joy with the common, ordinary people. But where has that old tradition gone today? Of course, we aren’t denying that this is an evil created by the Gang of Four, but the Gang of Four was toppled two years ago, and there are still comrades as dishonest as this. It’s a tragedy for our Party! We’ve been with the Party for decades, Wu—shouldn’t we be upset about this?

WU: Yes. I’ll do a self-criticism for Party Central. For the other comrades we’ll arrange some intra-Party education.

ZHANG SENIOR: Intra-Party education should be done, yes, but these comrades have also been caught up in a criminal case. The judiciary may well decide to prosecute Li Xiaozhang, and then the comrades connected with this case will probably have to appear in court.

WU: I’m not opposing that, but I am a bit concerned that with the credibility of the Party in decline as it is now, if this case is tried publicly, won’t it—

ZHANG SENIOR: That’s the problem, right there. We can’t cover this up. Sooner or later the masses will know about it. If this isn’t confronted openly, then people will talk behind our backs; it’s as simple as that. And if things go on this way, the public trust in us will be eroded even more. But if we dare to expose openly the privilege-oriented mentality of Party cadres and their dishonest behavior, if we show that our Party is forthright, that it can be openly criticized, and that it is fully able to overcome these flaws, then there is hope, plenty of hope!

(Zhou Minghua enters running, dressed in beautiful clothes.)

ZHANG SENIOR: A public trial of Li Xiaozhang will educate not only our cadres but—at the same time—our youth. It will rescue them, help bring them around, so that we won’t have more and more Li Xiaozhangs passing themselves off as Zhang Xiaolis.

(Zhou turns pale with fright.)

WU: Very well, I’ll telephone Public Security!

(Wu walks over to the phone and starts to dial.)

ZHOU (crying out): No, don’t—(Zhou gives a piercing shriek and faints.)

(Zhang Senior and Wu immediately rush toward her.)

EPILOGUE

Someone (unfortunately we’ve forgotten who)once said that the stage is a chamber of parliament. However this stage is now a courtroom in which a public trial is in progress; our beloved and faithful audience, sitting below the stage, have become spectators in court. And we hope that they, having witnessed firsthand the entire course of events in this case, will express their own opinions on the fairness of the court’s verdict.

A chief judge and two assistant judicial officers sit at the judge’s bench. The accused, Li Xiaozhang, sits in the prisoner’s dock. Two guards stand behind him. Witnesses Wu, Qian, Sun, Zhao, and Zheng are sitting in the witness box. Zhang Senior is sitting at the defense counsel’s desk. The prosecutor sits at the prosecutor’s desk. As the curtain rises, the prosecutor is reading the indictment.

PROSECUTOR: —based on investigation, the evidence is irrefutable. Accordingly, we have instituted court proceedings. That is all.

JUDGE: The prosecutor has just read the indictment which details the culpable activities of the suspect Li Xiaozhang. Does the accused Li Xiaozhang regard the statements of the prosecutor to be true or false?

LI (standing): They are all true.

JUDGE: Do you regard your activities as constituting a crime or not?

LI: I am not familiar with the law. But I acknowledge that I was wrong.

QIAN: What? You were “wrong”? Is that all?

ZHAO: What kind of “wrong” was it? Tell us!

JUDGE: Order!

LI: I was wrong to be a fake. If I really were the son of Zhang Senior or another leader, then everything I’ve done would be completely legal.

ZHAO: What do you mean?

QIAN: More arrogance!

SUN: He should be dealt with severely!

JUDGE: Witnesses must not speak without the Court’s permission!

LI: At this time, I would like to express my appreciation to the witnesses in this case. That I was able to perpetrate this act and nearly be transferred from the farm, I owe to all the helpful advice Managing Director Zhao offered, and to all the avenues Bureau Chief Sun cleared for me, and to the directives Director Qian and Secretary Wu wrote for me, and to the transfer forms Director Zheng issued on my behalf, (makes a deep bow to the witnesses) Once more I would like to thank you for your kindness, thank you for the conveniences you provided me, and thank you for your strong support!

(Director Zhao is thoroughly flustered; Director Qian is beside herself with anger and shame; Bureau Chief Sun gapes, speechless.)

ZHAO: Your Honor, please allow me to speak.

JUDGE: Proceed.

ZHAO: What the accused has just said is irrelevant to this case, and I ask Your Honor to silence him.

ZHENG: No! Your Honor, I ask for permission to speak.

JUDGE: Proceed.

ZHENG: I consider what the accused just said to be completely true and of the utmost relevance to this case.

JUDGE: What is the opinion of the other witnesses?

WU: (rising to his feet): I agree with Director Zheng. The accused should be allowed to offer the whole truth. This, ah, would be most—beneficial.

JUDGE: The accused, Li Xiaozhang, is there anything more you wish to say?

LI: I would like to ask why Zhou Minghua is not present in court.

(The judge and the two judicial officers whisper to each other.)

ASSISTANT JUDICIAL OFFICER: Zhou Minghua cannot be present due to her confinement in a hospital for illness.

LI: What’s wrong with her?

ASSISTANT JUDICIAL OFFICER: She is in critical condition.

LI (speechless with astonishment): Huh?

JUDGE: Do you have any further questions?

LI (weakly): No—None—(he sits, his head folded in his arms, sobbing)

JUDGE: At this time the counsel for the defense will please proceed with his defense.

ZHANG SENIOR (stands): I hardly expected that the accused would entrust me to be his defense counsel. But prior to the trial I obtained a detailed knowledge of the facts in this case, and after several discussions with the accused, I finally accepted the trust he has placed in me. First, it is my view that the accused did in fact perpetrate fraud and that the Prosecutor’s Office should bring charges against him. Without this we cannot ensure social order, nor can we educate and save youth who have gone astray. However, I wish to raise two issues which I ask the judge and judicial officers to take into consideration during their deliberations. First, why did the accused take a wrongful and dangerous path? Aside from such subjective causes as his own thought and character, are there other, deeper, social and historical causes? I believe that more than ten years of rampant madness from Lin Biao and the Gang of Four completely destroyed our campaign to send youth to the countryside and made these young people cynical. This was an important factor in motivating the accused Li Xiaozhang to commit a crime. In this sense, the accused Li Xiaozhang is also a victim, and I ask you to consider extending leniency to him. Second, the accused was able to conduct his fraud with such ease not because of any particularly brilliant method on his part. Rather, it was because a society that still maintains special privileges and has flaws in its system provides fertile soil for fraudulent activities. Some of our “swindlees,” who are Party cadres, handed the accused his opportunities and even helped him to carry out his fraud. One reason these comrades behaved this way is that they acted from habits that are rooted in a feudalistic, privilege-oriented mentality. But there is another reason—they wanted, through the accused, to satisfy their own individual selfish desires. Given this fact, it is clear that they are not only victims but also collaborators. In the political sense, they should also be held responsible! While carrying out its deliberations o the sentence of the accused, should the Court also confront this reality? I ask your consideration.

ZHAO: What? We are collaborators in the swindle?

SUN: We must also assume political blame?

QIAN: Zhang Senior, you’re being too harsh. I don’t understand this, and I won’t take it either! We are all persecuted by the Gang of Four.

ZHANG SENIOR: You don’t mean to tell me that we are the only ones who were persecuted by the Gang of Four, do you? I would say our Party, our nation, and our people suffered even worse persecution! Why do you take into account only your own advantage and negleet to consider what is best for our Party, our nation, and our people? We ought to think hard for a moment and recall when we were suffering persecution under the Gang of Four, longing for the day when we would be free—what were we thinking of? Didn’t we hope to be restored to our work, and once restored, to work even harder for the revolution? In the past the masses gave us their unbounded sympathy and devotion. They thought we could save the nation. They hoped we would benefit the people. But today you have forgotten all that! You have told the people to make allowances for the difficulties of the nation, to show self-restraint and obedience, to take the “big picture” into consideration, while there you are—grabbing your housing and calculating your own self-interest. You tell everybody else’s children to “put down roots on the farm,” while you use every means at your disposal to have your own sons and daughters transferred back to the city. And you want the masses to suffer privation and live simply while you yourselves crave a life of even greater luxury! If we cannot share in the lot of the masses, then how can we ask the masses to make common cause with us? I am really afraid for our cadre system, which, having survived the Gang of Four, may be brought to ruin by its own corruption.

Beware, comrades, or else—though some of you may now be sitting in the witness box of this court of law—in the court of Party discipline you will just as surely be standing in the dock of the accused!

(The end.)

__________________________

1 The critical views cited here are found in Chen Yong, “Realism and Political Inclination in Literature As Seen from Two Plays” (“Cong liangge juben kan wenyi di zhenshixing he qingxiangxing”), Renmin ribao (March 19, 1980), reprinted in Zhonghua yuebao, no. 5 (1980), pp. 187–93; and Li Geng, “Opinions on ‘What If I Really Were?’ ” (“Dui juben ‘jiaru wo shi zhedi’ di yijian”), Renmin xiju, no. 3 (1980), pp. 7–11.

2 Chen Yong, p. 189.

1 An “educated youth” is one of the 17 million urban young people sent to the countryside in the 1960s and early 1970s to teach and learn from the peasants.

2 Usually these are foreign films that may be seen only by people in certain jobs, or by officials of certain ranks and their families.

3 Zhang Chunqiao was one of the Gang of Four.

4 A famous mountain resort in southern Anhui Province.

5 This in fact would strike the audience as unusually large.

6 An economic policy of Party Central to “adjust, consolidate, develop, and improve”—rather than trying to go too fast.

7 A 1979 slogan summarizing Deng Xiaoping’s pragmatic approach to solving China’s problems.

8 See note 7.